Light at the End
by shadows59
Summary: It's almost the big day and the Scoobies reminisce while old friends return. Part 7 of Finding Heaven B/X/Ay, T/S
1. Chapter 1

Title: Light at the End

By: Shadows59

Summary: It's almost the big day and the Scoobies reminisce while old friends return. Part 7 of Finding Heaven

Category: B/X/Ay, T/S

Spoilers: More altered Season Six up to Seeing Red.

Disclaimer: Owned by Joss and Co.

Note 1. The seventh part of my Finding Heaven Series. Sequel to Finding Heaven, So Complicated, Get This Party Started, Black and White, Picking up the Pieces and Dreams and Prophecies

Note 2. This story is more focused on the rest of the Scoobies. Not that B/X/Ay won't play a big part, especially towards the end.

Now, on with the show!

Chapter 1

8 months and three weeks after Black and White

Faith was hot and sweaty, just they way she liked it, as she moved to the music that pulsed around her. It wasn't as good as sex or slaying - nothing was - but she'd take what she could get.

She had her eyes closed so she could be that much more in tune with the maniacal beating of the drums and frantic guitar play that were the trademark of her favorite band, Prozac Dreams. Then, just as she started to lose herself in the music, the song ended. She kept her eyes closed, hoping that the band would start up with another song, but they didn't. Instead all she heard was the squeal of amps as they were turned off and the sounds of a dance floor emptying.

Finally, with a depressed little noise, Faith opened her eyes and saw the two guys she was almost dancing with standing in front of her, doing there best not to be too obviously leering. Not that she minded, but they didn't have to know that. So she gave them a half-hearted glare to get their eyes back up to her face.

They watched her with anticipation while she just tried to remember their names and wondered what would be the quickest way to dump them. Still, they hadn't sucked as dancers before she went off in her own world, and they kept the other guys off her while she was gone, so she graced them with a smile and decided to let them down easy. "Thanks guys. Needed that."

"Want a soda?" The blond one asked with an uncertain smile as he nodded over to the bar.

The other guy punched him in the shoulder. "Dude! She's mine!"

The blond guy punched the other right back. "Like hell! I saw her first!"

Faith just smirked and dismissed them with a wave. "Please. Like either of you'd survive the ride."

With that she spun around and sauntered back to her table, where Dawn was sitting and giving her the evil eye. "What?" She asked as she straddled the back of the chair and sat down.

Dawn stabbed at one of the ice cubes in her cup with her straw. "I thought we were going to hang."

"We're hanging."

"Then what was that all about?" Dawn waved her hand at the dance floor and at the two guys, both of whom were still eyeing Faith. At least they were until she turned around and waved, then the ceiling became much more interesting.

Faith turned back and grabbed her cup and rubbed it against her forehead to cool off some. "Felt like dancing. Could've joined."

"Please," Dawn said and slid down into her seat. "I'd just get crushed in the stampede."

Faith set her cup down. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what, Miss I-need-sex-every-five-hours-or-I'll-explode. I mean, you just walk out there and two guys throw themselves at you. I go out and I might as well have the plague."

Faith shrugged. "Not my fault. You could do it, too. If you wanted."

Dawn just rolled her eyes. "Please. Have you actually looked at me?"

Faith looked Dawn over and sighed. The girl dressed almost as white bread as Willow used to, and had gone downhill ever since that bastard, Tom, dumped her. Like now, with her wearing jeans and loose sweatshirt, 'cause the amorphous blob look was guaranteed to get attention. Still… "You've got potential. If you wanted you could have them drooling. Just need to work on the packaging a bit. How about next week I take you shopping?"

Dawn just went red at the idea, and it took a few tries for her to sputter out, "I'd look ridiculous… I don't even know how you even get into those pants."

"What, these?" Faith asked and ran her hand down the black leather that was hugging her legs like a second ski and instantly felt a dozen more eyes land on her. "Piece of cake. They slide right on."

"Only if you skip the cake," Dawn muttered. "And maybe I don't want the newest in hooker wear."

"Lighten up, Grandma. I thought you'd be a little more open minded, considering…" Dawn winced and Faith felt the first fluttering of regret. "Sorry, forgot."

"No big," Dawn muttered and crossed her arms. "I suppose one night free from the family was too much to ask."

"It can't be that bad…"

"Wanna bet? Buffy changes moods so often its like she's channel surfing. If she wasn't pregnant she'd probably be locked up in a psych ward somewhere by now…"

"It'll only be for a few more weeks," Faith offered with Giles like sagacity as she ran a hand down over her stomach just to feel the tight muscles under the even tighter t-shirt. She was as thrilled as anyone about the baby, but at least twice as thrilled it wasn't hers.

Dawn didn't let the interruption stop her rambling tirade. "…and in those spare moments when Xander and Anya aren't jumping to the queen's commands they're jumping each other so Anya can have a baby of her own - though I can't imagine why - but they've been trying for two months now with zip to show for it and she's getting desperate and **creative**, which is just scary."

Faith tried to wrap her mind around the idea of Anya just starting to get creative. The one and only time they'd compared notes, Anya had had a list of things that she'd never even heard of, much less dreamed of trying. "Xander was right, I have lost my crown."

"Yeah," Dawn agreed with a single machine gun like nod of her head, though Faith doubted she heard a single word. "And in a few more days the baby'll be here and screaming every hour of the day. What joy."

Now Faith just had to chuckle. "Please. I know you're just dying to hold Jessie for the first time."

Dawn's scowl softened from Defcon 1 to 3. "Maybe, but only a little. I'm still sick of hearing about her from everyone. Not that Buffy cares. Why wouldn't she? She's getting all the attention."

"I'm sure she's digging. There's nothing like having perfect strangers come up and grab your stomach."

"And how would you know about that?"

"Well, with me they usually aim higher," Faith admitted with a wink, "but I bet I get a bigger rush from it than B's getting."

"Yeah. She was always so touch-feely." Dawn finished off her soda and stared at the empty glass. "God, I wish I was old enough for a beer."

"Dawn!"

"Oh, please. Don't even start…"

Faith laughed. "Me? Please. I'm just… proud. There may be hope for you yet."

Dawn fought to keep her scowl in place, but a sly little grin forced its way out. "Now you're corrupting a minor?"

"What can I say? I'm a bad seed," Faith admitted with a happy shrug as she finished off her own drink. Then she started looking around the club. "Where's Blondie?"

"Tara's not coming," Dawn said with a sigh. "Giles wanted to talk to her again and it's so not fair. She's only going to be here for a few weeks and he's hogging her. And you know she hates being called Blondie."

"Why do you think I do it?"

"Why do you do anything?"

"To get a rile out of you, short stuff. Why did you think?"

Dawn didn't answer, at least not out loud, though there was some grumbling under her breath. She always made it so easy.

Faith leaned back and wished she could get another beer, but didn't feel like flirting with the bartender again. Even she had some standards and he came nowhere close to them, so she just played with the ice at the bottom of her cup.

And speaking of standards, she had a few new ones to live up to, so she turned and did her quarter-hour scan of the crowd.

She didn't see anything exciting, just the usual mix of teenagers and college kids. Too bad, she hated having all this energy and nothing to work it out on. Especially with the current nun-like status that she'd been trapped in since… Damn, since before she'd started working for the Mayor, not that she'd admit it to anyone. No wonder she'd been feeling so itchy lately.

Faith was so wrapped up in her thoughts she almost missed one, a sixteen-year-old black haired boy who was standing on the other side of the club. She felt the pleasant buzz that only came with dealing with unfinished business as she got to her feet. "Starting to feel like old home week around here."

"What?" Dawn asked.

"Vampire," Faith replied and nodded at a guy across the room. He was a little taller than her, but looked sixteen. Probably has for a century now. Good looking, too. Being dead hadn't hurt him any, as proved by the red head he had wrapped around his arm. He must've said something funny, 'cause the girl burst out laughing and so did everyone around them. Last laugh was going to be on her though, since he was leaving and seemed intent on bringing her with.

Dawn looked at the guy, then at Faith. "You can tell from this far?"

"Slayer senses," Faith lied. Giles always claimed that Slayers should be able to feel vamps, but she never had. Neither had B for that matter. So she just figured it was one of those legends that Watchers went gaga for. No, she recognized this vampire because she used to work with him. He was another of the Mayor's flunkies.

Faith stalked the vampire, breezing past the people on the dance floor like they weren't even there, as she reached down for the stake that was hidden under her jacket. "Going somewhere, Karl? Don't have any time for an old friend?" She asked as she stepped in front of the couple.

The girl just eyed Faith with a disgust that barely masked her envy. "You know this skank, Karl?"

Karl didn't say anything; he was too busy staring at Faith in horror. She took it as a compliment and let him see the top of the stake. "You wanna do it here, or should we go somewhere a bit more private?"

"You were going to do it with her?" The girl screeched out the question and tried to pull her arm out of Karl's, but she didn't have a chance. "Let go of me, you perv!"

Karl finally seemed to remember the girl that he had pinned to his side and looked at her with a cold grin. "Sure, baby," he said and shoved the girl as hard as he could at Faith. The girl let out another screech as she started flying through the air.

Faith could've just stepped to the side and have a good chuckle at the way the red head was flapping her arms. Chances were she'd just land on her head, so it wasn't like she'd hurt something she actually used. But no, that wouldn't be right, so she let the girl slam into her.

The blow knocked Faith off her feet, but she was careful to cushion the girl's fall with her body even though it hurt like hell. She must've let out a louder gasp of pain than she intended, because the girl's face went to match her hair and she promptly thanked Faith by raking her fingernails over Faith's cheek.

"Being a hero's going to get me killed." Faith winced and ran her fingers over the three bloody gouges. Then she turned her glare onto the red head. "Me or someone else."

The other girl glared back, then went pale and disappeared back into the crowd.

Faith reveled for the moment before she jumped back to her feet and turned back to Karl, who was half way to the door by now. "Son of a bitch…" She started shoving her way through the crowd. Most of the regulars where smart enough to do a fade when things got weird, but there were always a few dumb asses, and they were the ones who slowed her down enough to let the vampire get out the door.

Karl was always one of the smarter vamps. Smart enough to figure out when to run, which explained how he managed to survive the Ascension. Also meant he was too smart to let live.

Dawn shouted something, or at least Faith thought she did, but she didn't stick around long enough to find out. She was too busy playing catch up. She finally got to the door and outside just in time to see her prey round the corner of the alley.

And, just to increase the suckage of her night, sometime while they were inside the clouds had opened up with a nice chilly December rain and all she had on was a thin coat. Kept the chill out, but wouldn't last more than five seconds in this downpour.

It didn't even slow Faith down. She caught a glimpse of her 'old friend' and was off like a shot.

Faith knew she must've looked like a drowned rat after the first mile of the chase. Then it rained harder. Hard enough to make her wish that her jacket was as skin tight as her pants, especially when the rain started running down the collar of her jacket and soaking the back of her shirt. The sudden freeze sucked the warmth right out of her and she just knew she'd be sick as a dog tomorrow.

Not that Karl cared, it wasn't like a corpse could freeze to death and he didn't seem to give a damn about her. If he did he would've had the decency to stop and just let her stake him so she could get somewhere warm, but no. He couldn't even play be the rules and keep his mouth shut. Instead, as soon as they were on a residential street, he started screaming, "Somebody help me!" at the top of his lungs.

Faith's head shot back and forth, not that she expected anyone to help, but she didn't want to be surprised. After all, he might have friends in the neighborhood or there might be an annoying but rare do-gooder. But no one came to his rescue. No one even came to the windows. Anyone who had heard probably just huddled deeper under their covers and thanked God that whatever was happening wasn't happening to them. This was Sunnydale after all, and people either learned the rules or they made the paper. Page three or four obits to be exact.

Karl seemed to figure that out, because he gave up on the screaming and made a hard right into somebody's yard. Faith turned and followed him as fast as she could, but the slick mud pulled at her feet. "If you've ruined these boots I'm going to be you to death with them!"

He must've heard her, because he let out another burst of speed. Faith slipped just once as she followed, but she caught herself before she hit the ground and only lost a step or two. She made it back when the vampire stopped to pull himself over a six-foot high fence that surrounded the back yard.

Faith didn't even slow down, she just covered her face with her arms and launched herself into the fence. If it didn't work it would hurt like hell, but if it did… It did. The thin planks exploded around her with pretty much the same sound that Karl's knees made when she slammed into them.

They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, splattering mud everywhere. Karl writhed under her, trying to pull away, but he couldn't get any leverage. Faith just chuckled as she pulled herself further up and sat down hard on the small of his back.

"Come on, Faith! We were buds!" He pleaded, careful to look human as he did. Or at least as much as she could see was, what with half of it buried in the mud. "And I wasn't going to kill her! Promise! I was just going to take a nip."

"Sure you were," Faith grabbed one of the larger chunks of fence, "Tell the boss hi for me."

"Slayer!" Karl cursed as he went vamp face and made one last try to pull away. Not that it helped.

"The one and only," Faith said as she brought the stake down. The vampire screamed as he burst into a fine dust that swirled around despite the rain.

"The one and only," she repeated to herself with a satisfied grin as she waved the dust away from her face. It sounded better than good, it sounded right.

Then it all went wrong.

"Faith, wait!"

"B?" Faith asked as she pushed herself back to her feet. She heard the sick sound of something sliding into flesh behind her and started to turn.

"Don't move," Buffy ordered.

Faith froze as she scanned the seemingly normal yard around her. There wasn't anything in sight, but Buffy must see… no, Buffy shouldn't even be out here. She should be home in bed thanking God the she wasn't the one who had to be standing out in the rain like an idiot anymore.

Faith tensed as she turned, ready for anything. Anything but what she saw.

Buffy – the old, thin, sometimes scary Buffy, not the current pregnant and usually very scary Buffy – kneeling down in an alley that had appeared where a line rosebushes had been just a moment before, in front of a man who had blood just gushing out of a hole in his chest.

"No," Faith said and shook her head. She tried to deny what she saw in front of her, but it was a perfect copy. Right down to the rain.

"I didn't know… I didn't know," Faith heard herself say in a daze. She blinked away what had to be rainwater and saw herself standing behind Buffy and looking down in horror at the man.

"We've got to call 911. You're going to be okay," Buffy tried to reassure the dying man as she pressed her hand against the hole in his chest, but the blood just ran around his fingers. . "I need a rag… something to…"

"No, no," Faith said as she watched it all again, her knees almost gave out when she heard the man's dying breath. She wanted to run when she heard the sirens, it didn't matter where, but she couldn't move. Couldn't take her eyes off the man she'd killed.

Her double didn't have that problem. "Come on!" The other Faith shouted and pulled Buffy away from the body. Faith watched herself start running and knew, deep down, she never stopped. Not even in prison, not even now.

Faith's vision blurred again as she stared at the man who was starring back up at her, his dead eyes looked so surprised. It was too much for her to take, so she finally turned to run. She barely took two steps before her foot slid out from under her and she landed face first in the mud.

"Faith, no!"

Faith's head shot up just in time to watch her double drive the stake into the scrawny man's chest. She hunched over and vomited when she heard the stake slide in again and kept throwing up until all that was left was pathetic little coughing sounds.

"I didn't know," Faith whispered in unison with her double as she pushed herself up on her wobbling arms and tried to crawl away.

The nightmare followed. "Faith, no!"

"Stop it! Please," Faith begged between sobs and buried her face in her arms, but she couldn't block out the nightmare that repeated endlessly in front of her.

"Faith, no!"

"Faith, no!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dawn ran down the deserted streets, ignoring the rain that had been pouring down ever since she left the Bronze to go looking for Faith. She knew it was stupid, just like she knew she'd never catch up. But she couldn't let Faith go off by herself.

It was bad enough when Buffy did it, but at least if she got in trouble she had friends to back her up - not like Faith. There were days when Dawn thought that she was the only friend Faith had, just like Faith was the only one she had. Everyone else was Buffy's and they were just borrowing. Not that she'd ever heard Faith complain. No, Faith just took it all and said it was five-by-five.

Martyr complexes must be another Slayer gift, because it sure showed up in enough of them.

Anyway, after a half hour and a couple hundred dark thoughts about vampires and where they could go, Dawn finally caught up to Faith. But the dark haired slayer wasn't fighting, or toying with the vampire like she expected. Instead she found Faith lying curled up in the middle of someone's back yard, sobbing quietly with her eyes locked shut and her hands over her ears.

That was fifteen minutes and a quick call to Giles ago. He'd come running with Tara in tow and now the four of them were standing – well, except for Faith who was cradled in Giles' arms, in front of the front door waiting for Tara to find the right key.

"Hurry up!" Dawn snapped at Tara in an angry whisper, but she couldn't tare her eyes off Faith. She never realized how small the Slayer really was until now, or how fragile.

"I'm trying. Which one is it?" She asked Giles with a hint of panic in her voice as her fingers fumbled over the keys.

"The middle one. Sort of bronzish," Giles said.

"I don't…" Tara began, then shook her head and muttered a curse under her breath as she shoved the keys into her purse. "I'm an idiot. Exsolvo." With that the door opened with a click. Tara pushed the door open and ran for the stairs in the back, taking them two at a time.

Giles glowered at the door, which seemed to mock him as it swung back and forth on its hinges. "I really must get better locks."

"Save your visit to Better Homes and Gardens for later," Dawn said as she pushed the door wide open and held it there. "And watch her head."

"I **have** done this before, Dawn," Giles said with just a hint of Ripper as he carried Faith inside and carefully put her down on his couch. The second she was free, Faith rolled over on her side and curled up in a fetal position. "Far too often, as a matter of fact."

Dawn sat down at Faith's feet. "At least she's not whimpering anymore." She managed to make it sound like the worst was over, as if catatonia had so much more going for it.

"We still don't know what made her collapse in the first place." Giles put his hand to Faith's forehead and frowned. "And she's burning up.

"I'm surprised we're not all sick," Tara said as she came back down the stairs with a half dozen towels in her arms. There were also a few small plastic bags of what had to be magic supplies sitting on the top of the pile.

"There's always tomorrow," Dawn pointed out.

Tara ignored her and dropped the towels on top of one of the chairs. "We should all change into something dry."

"Can't we do that later?"

"No," Giles answered. "Tara's right. With Faith especially. Besides, I don't want you dripping on my books." He waited for the laugh that never came, then cleared his throat and continued. "I trust you two can…" He said and motioned at Faith.

Dawn and Tara shared and uneasy glance.

"Actually, I have something that might help," Tara said quickly and grabbed one of the bags. She opened it up and took a pinch of the dark brown powder inside. Then she muttered something old and sprinkled the stuff over Faith. The powder glimmered when it touched Faith. When the lightshow was done she was completely dry.

"Well, that worked out nicely," Giles said.

Tara grinned and nodded. "Yup. A little trick Rebecca showed me. The only real problem is keeping it all balanced…" Tara stopped mid-sentence and craned her head back, only to catch the next drop of water on her nose.

Giles stared up at the dark stain that was spreading across the ceiling and sighed. "Marvelous. Let's the rest of us do it the old fashioned way." Giles grabbed a pot from the kitchen and put it down to catch the water. Tara blushed and offered him an apologetic shrug as he straightened up, but he just sighed again and headed upstairs.

"Just a few kinks to work out," Tara offered, lamely.

Dawn shook her head. "Why don't you go get changed while I keep an eye on her?"

"I'll be quick," Tara promised, glad to be given an out, and all but ran up the stairs to the guest room.

Dawn got up to wet one of the towels in the kitchen sink and started wiping the dried mud off Faith's face. "Can't take you anywhere." Faith's only answer was to wince and pull herself into a tighter ball. Dawn pulled her hand back, afraid she'd somehow hurt her friend. She tried again a few moments later, only to see Faith wince again. She let the towel drop down onto her knees and just sat there, afraid to do anything, until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped a hair and spun around to see Tara standing behind her.

"You can go get changed. I'll keep an eye on her," Tara promised and smoothed down the front of her yellow blouse and long green skirt with her hands. She took the towel from Dawn and started cleaning Faith's face off with the same gentleness that Dawn remembered. It was nice to know some things stayed the same. "Do you want to use my room?"

Dawn stood up, though her body felt like it was made of lead, and grabbed another one of the towels. "Got some stuff in Faith's." Standard Scooby procedure. There were spare sets of clothes at everyone's houses and at the Magic Box, just for nights like this.

She got half way to the staircase when she stopped and looked down at the carpet. "I'm sorry I snapped. Earlier, I mean."

"Don't worry about it, sweetie. You were just worried about Faith."

"Yeah. Well, that and the fact that people who can't use keys are a pet peeve." Dawn glanced back over her shoulder and watched Tara's mouth twist to fight down a smile.

"Brat."

Dawn just grinned and hurried the rest of the way to Faith's room. It was right off the living room, which gave both Faith and Giles at least the illusion of privacy. Dawn walked inside and was, as always, struck by the difference between this room and the rest of the house.

Every other room in the house looked either a library or a museum, what with all the books and knickknacks that Giles kept, while Faith's room was almost empty except for a bed and a dresser. There weren't even any pictures, which was always a shock because at her house they might as well have used pictures for wallpaper.

"I like it Spartan," was all that Faith would say the one and only time Dawn had asked about it. But it was more than that, it always seemed like the Slayer was just two seconds away from packing up and moving out. Like she didn't want anything weighing her down in case she had to leave.

Dawn knew it worried Giles – hell, it scared her – but there was nothing that either of them could do about it. And even if there were, it wouldn't help with the crisis right now.

So pushed the thoughts out of her head as she knelt down and opened the bottom right hand drawer of Faith's dresser. Inside was a small duffel bag that she'd stuffed in there months ago that had a pair of jeans and a Powerpuff Girls t-shirt.

"Of all the nights to leave Spike's coat at home," Dawn groused to herself as she pulled off her soaked clothes and wished she had time for a shower, or better yet, a bath. A nice hot bath would feel so good right now, especially if she could borrow some of Anya's bath salts. Her in-law might have been a thousand-year-old demon, but she knew where to get all the best stuff.

Instead she had to settle for a quick towel off that was nowhere near as relaxing. Then she pulled thankfully dry clothes and shoved the wet ones into the bag and went back into the living room, where Tara and Giles were already back at work.

Giles was hunched over the kitchen table over a book and the only thing that was different about his outfit was the fact that it was now dry. "Didn't you bother to get changed, Giles?" Dawn asked as she walked over, trying to keep the mood light despite the worried looks on everyone's faces.

Giles didn't rise to the bait though. "Yes, I just have thirty different sets of the same things. Quite practical. Unlike you lot."

Dawn didn't bite either; she just sank down on the arm of the couch and stared down at an even paler Faith. Who'd've thought the mud actually made her look more… alive? "Is she any better?"

Tara opened her mouth for what had to be a lie, but she didn't say anything. Instead she just shook her head. "No. I think she's getting worse."

"It's a spell, obviously," Giles said, sounding quite sure of himself. Then he exhaled noisily. "Or a poison, or some entity's invaded her mind. Was she acting at all odd the last time you saw her?"

Dawn shrugged. "Same old. She saw a vamp at the Bronze and was going to dust it. You'd really think they'd stop coming around by now. I mean, how many do we have to kill before they get the hint?"

"No one said vampires were bright," Tara said. Then her eyes fell to the floor. "Not most of them, anyway."

"She wasn't acting at all odd?" Giles asked again.

Dawn thought back. "Well, she acted jumpy when she felt him with her Slayer sense."

Giles looked like he bit into something sour. "'Slayer sense?'"

"Yeah, but I thought she was just kidding, 'cause Buffy never said anything about being able to sense vampires."

Giles somehow managed to mix worry and disappointment in his eyes. "She should have, as should Faith, but neither ever showed any sign… And I doubt the ability would show up tonight. So, why would she lie?"

"Lying? What lying? I never said…"

"To keep Dawn from worrying?" Tara offered.

Dawn nodded so fast she got dizzy. "Yeah! That's it!"

"Perhaps," Giles nodded. "But that doesn't explain how she knew about the vampire. Unless, was he dressed… oddly?"

"No," Dawn said after a moment's thought. "Just jeans and a long sleeve shirt like most of the guys there."

"So s… she recognized him," Tara said.

Giles nodded. "But from where?"

Dawn swallowed hard and knew he was right. That explained why Faith looked so… shocked when she saw the guy. Like he was the last person she ever expected to see. "Prison?"

"A woman's prison?" Tara asked, amused at the thought. "Not unless she went to the same place they're always showing on Cinimax. Wh…which I've never seen." She turned away, but not fast enough to hide her blush.

At any other time Dawn would have grinned, but not now. Now her stomach had too many knots in it. "Before prison, then? Like Mayor before?"

Giles nodded and sighed. "That would be most likely. Thought it doesn't exactly help us narrow down…" They all jumped when the phone started ringing. "Bloody hell," Giles said, his hand over his heart as he reached over and picked up the phone. "Hello? Buffy? Yes, she's right here."

Dawn winced when Giles held the phone out to her and knew without looking at the clock she was at least two hours past her curfew. She took the phone, swallowed hard, and walked into the valley of the shadow of death. "Hey, sis."

"Don't 'hey, sis' me," Buffy answered. "You were supposed to be home hours ago. I've been up waiting for you…"

"Faith was attacked," Dawn cut in.

Buffy's speech screeched to a stop. When she started up again the anger was completely gone, replaced by fear. "How bad?"

"We don't know. She doesn't look hurt, but she's been unconscious since I found her."

"Since you… What were you… Never mind. Hold on," Buffy said and clamped her hand over the mouth of her phone. Dawn could half make out voices, but not well enough to understand what they were saying. Finally Buffy came back on. "We'll be right over."

Dawn looked out the window at the downpour that was still pouring down. "Are you sure? You don't have to, not in your…"

Now Buffy was the one who cut Dawn off. "I already have two wives, Dawn. I don't need three," she said, her tone Sahara dry.

"Hey!" Xander shouted in the background.

"Oh, hush," Buffy said to him before she got back to Dawn. "I only have to get to the car and back, I doubt I'll even get wet. Besides, Faith's a part of the family."

"Since when?" Dawn asked with a bitterness even she didn't expect and knew Buffy didn't deserve. After all, even she'd been uncomfortable when Faith came back and the dark Slayer hadn't done half the things to her that she'd done to Buffy, who - despite it all - still made Faith a part of her wedding.

"Since a week last Tuesday, doofus. We'll be over in ten minutes," Buffy promised and hung up.

Dawn hung up too and turned back to Giles, who had pulled opened another book. "They're coming over."

"Good," Giles said as he turned a page. "Maybe Anya'll recognize something."

"It's a spell," Tara insisted as she stood up from the couch and rubbed her arms. "I can feel it."

"That only narrows it down to at least a third of my books," Giles pointed out without malice. "But at least it's a start."

Dawn grabbed a couple of books and went to sit beside Faith, just to keep her company, even though the older girl probably didn't know she was there. Still, she might and that would have to do for now.

Buffy lied, it took them twenty minutes. Anya was the first one in; she pulled off her raincoat and threw it onto Giles' coat rack with such force she almost knocked the antique wood stand over. "Where is the faker?"

"Over here," Dawn said, darkly.

Anya walked over cocked her head to the side as she looked down at the still unconscious Faith. "Oh. She really is sick." Her shoulder's slumped. "I had hoped she was lying. As in exaggerating, not the actual lying down, which she clearly is…"

"I know," Dawn said and cut off Anya's babbling. It had taken a few months, but she'd learned to deal with her sister-in-law's quirks. Most of them, anyway. She never thought she'd miss Bugs Bunny so much.

Buffy was the next one in, though she barely got through the door before Dawn almost knocked her over for a hug. "It'll be okay, Dawnie," Buffy said as she pulled Dawn as close as she could, what with the large bulge of Buffy's stomach between them.

"Yeah, we've got Giles and his big squishy frontal lobe working on it," Xander said as he followed Buffy in and patted Dawn on the shoulder. Then he got serious. "How is she?"

"Comatose," Tara answered without sparing a glance at her book. "Probably magic, but I'll be bollixed if I know what spell."

Giles raised an eyebrow at Tara in surprise, not that she noticed, then added, "Most likely something from Mayor Wilkins though. And I'll be thankful if you never refer to my brain like that again. Horrid image."

"Yet so apt. So what can we do?" Xander asked and slapped his hands together.

Giles just gestured at the books. Xander let out a sigh as he sat down at the other side of the table and grabbed the topmost book.

"I thought you put all these on a computer?" Anya whimpered with dread as she moved over behind Xander, but didn't actually pick up a book.

"I did, but I never figured out how to run the blasted thing," Giles admitted. He gestured over to a leather case that was sitting in the corner of his living room, gathering dust. "Help yourself."

"Goody," Anya muttered with slightly more enthusiasm than she'd shown for the books as she opened the back and pulled out the laptop, which surprisingly still worked. Anya had it running and was pecking at the keys in just a few minutes.

Buffy glanced over at the research party, then back at Dawn. "So, how're you holding up?"

"Gloomy with a hint of miserable," Dawn admitted. "You?"

Buffy made a face and put a hand on her stomach. "Same thrill ride as ever."

"Couldn't sleep again?"

"No," Buffy answered with a pout. "It's no fair. I used to get more sleep as the Slayer."

"Just wait until Jessie's born. Then we'll all be keeping you company. Did you try warm milk like the crazy lady down the street suggested?"

"Ms. Guliaz isn't crazy, she's just a little odd. And yes, twice. No good." Buffy let out a sigh. "Come on, we aren't going to help her if we're just sitting her gabbing."

It took them three hours to figure out what was wrong with Faith and another hour to begin working on what they hoped would be a cure. Unfortunately it was proving messier than the disease, at least as far as Dawn was concerned.

"I just got all the mud off her," Dawn groused.

"If it makes you feel better, this is magic mud," Giles said as he painted elaborate black lines over Faith's cheeks and forehead with a thin brush. Once he was done there he moved down to her forearms and hands.

"Really?"

"No, not really." Giles stood up and looked over his work before he gave it a nod and put the brush back into the pot. "I'm ready."

Tara dropped put her brush down and gave the much more artistic lines she'd drawn across Buffy's face a tough critique, then nodded. "So are we."

"I still don't like this," Anya said, her arms crossed tightly against her chest while her foot tapped on the floor. "What if something goes wrong?"

"Yeah. You don't have to do this, Buff. I could…" Xander offered.

But Buffy shook her head. "No. Let's face it, she's dealing with a spell that's making her relive her worst memory, so I'm probably already there."

"You can't be sure of that," Xander pointed out weakly.

Buffy didn't say anything; she didn't have to. Even Dawn knew about the bad blood between the Slayers, mostly through stories and fake memories, but she knew them. There was Buffy stabbing Faith, or the two switching bodies, or Faith poisoning Angel, or Buffy and Angel coming to blows over Faith in Los Angeles, or… the list seemed endless.

"Besides, there's already a link between them, which helps out a lot," Tara said as she crouched down on the floor between Faith and Buffy. Faith was still curled up on the couch while Buffy was sitting across from her in the best chair in the house. "Are you ready?"

"Are you sure you can do this? Connecting two minds can be very…" Giles asked Tara.

"Dangerous?" Anya jumped in to the conversation and moved closer to Buffy. "How dangerous?"

"Tricky, is what I was going to say," Giles finished.

"I can do it," Tara said with a confidence that Dawn never thought she'd hear from the shy witch. "I've done it twice before and Ms. Harkness said I was a quick study."

"But…" Anya began.

"I'll be okay, Ahn," Buffy promised as she reached over and squeezed Anya's hand. Even after all these months it still looked a bit odd to Dawn to see her sister and Anya holding hands, or – hell – her sister holding hands with Xander for that matter. Not wrong, or bad, just odd. Still, it seemed to calm Anya down a little, even though she didn't look any less worried.

"Faith would do it for any of us," Xander chimed in, but didn't look any less concerned as he took Anya by the shoulders and pulled her out of the way.

"Be careful," Dawn said to her sister.

"Don't have to worry about that. After all, I've got a date to keep," Buffy joked and patted her stomach.

Giles cleared his throat. "Just remember, only Faith can break the spell. You can advise, but you can't do it for her."

Buffy glanced up at her mentor. "But you don't know how to actually break the spell?"

"Sadly, no."

"Figures." Buffy stretched one last time and tried to find a more comfortable spot to sit before she gave up. "Okay, let's do it."

"Give me your hand," Tara ordered. Buffy took a deep breath before she took Tara by the hand. Then Tara reached over and took one's of Faith limp hands and closed her eyes.

Then the witch said something in a language that only Giles and maybe Anya understood and the three girls stiffened almost painfully and didn't move again except to breath.

"That's it?" Dawn asked, disappointed. She'd thought there'd at least be some lights.

"That's it," Giles confirmed. "It's all up to Buffy, now."

"Just like old times," Xander said and looked almost nostalgic. "So, who wants donuts?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Faith, no!"

Faith watched her first murder again with dead eyes. She lay on her side, her knees to her chest, while the icy rain froze the half of her that wasn't pressed against the grime stained pavement. She'd given up trying to fight; there was no point. No matter how far or how fast she ran the alley followed her, constricted around her until this was the only reality that was left.

She couldn't do anything but watch, so she watched it all.

She watched as her other self drove the stake slide into the man's chest. It was a perfect staking. The tip went right through the man's heart. Giles would have been proud.

She watched as a numb horror passed over her victim's face.

She watched the horror spread to her and Buffy's phantoms as the man's blood became the most brilliant color in her new world.

She'd watched for so long and so closely that she almost missed the change when it finally came.

"Well, that brings back memories."

The words were wrong. For the first time in what seemed like years the words were wrong. She didn't understand why at first, not even when she saw the other Buffy standing across the alley with her arms crossed as she studied her doppelganger with vague amusement

"I can't believe I really looked like that. I mean, look at me – her – me, I look like a rail." The new Buffy walked around the familiar one, who was still going through the motions of the nightmare as if nothing had changed, and rather brazenly checking herself out. After she'd made a full circuit the new Buffy let out a sigh that was at once wistful and disappointed. "Which isn't always of the good, apparently."

"B?"

Buffy jumped when she heard Faith's cracked voice, which was immediately followed by an expression of pure shame as she looked up and down the alley and finally saw Faith trying to push herself up off the ground. Buffy ran over and grabbed Faith by the hand.

"No big," Faith said as she stared at Buffy's hand. She hated feeling this helpless, needing someone, but she didn't know what else she could do. So she let Buffy help her up. Though she tried to pull away as soon as she was standing, and would've fallen on her face if Buffy hadn't caught her in time. She tried to smirk it off with a casual, "So, what's the what?" Not that Buffy bought it.

"Giles thinks you're caught in a Mneo… Men… You're in some kind of mystical trance," Buffy said as she wrapped Faith's arm around her shoulder, "but he wasn't quite clear on how…"

"Faith, no!" The nightmare interrupted.

Buffy looked up when she heard herself shout out, and went several shades of white when she saw the staking. When she finally looked Faith in the eyes again it was clear that she'd had her own nightmares about this night, a fact that made everything that came after both easier and harder to understand. But it was what she said that pushed Faith over the edge.

"It wasn't your fault."

Buffy made it sound so simple, as if it wasn't being proven a lie every three minutes behind them.

Faith pulled herself free, almost stumbling as her legs shook under her, threw her arms out to encompass the alley as she stepped away from Buffy. "Sure it was. You see anyone else's hand on the stake?"

"It was just an accident."

"It was being stupid, careless. If it was anyone but me – if it was you – that man would still be alive today." Faith's voice somehow stayed calm even though she wanted to scream those words, had wanted to ever since that night. If only…. "You never would have fucked up like I did."

Buffy stared across the alley between them. "You'd be surprised."

"No need to lie, B. Tonight sucks enough without a pity party."

"It happened just before I was sixteen," Buffy said, ignoring Faith's protest. "Mom was dating this guy, Ted, who I hated from the microsecond I met him, and I hated him more because everyone else loved him. Mom, Xander, Willow.

"I got vocal about it one night when he'd put together a big meal for mom and me and mom grounded me, told me to go to my room and stay there. Which I did… for those ten seconds it took me to open my window and sneak out to see Angel. I came back an hour later and thought I was home free - 'cause how many times had I done that before without mom catching on - but when I got back Ted was waiting in my room with my diary in his hand."

"And?"

"I hit him."

Faith shook her head. "That's it? I would've handed the bastard's ass to him."

Buffy turned away. "I did, because right after I hit him he hit me. I lost it and went Slayer on him. The next thing I knew he was tumbling down the stairs. When he hit the bottom he must've landed wrong because… he broke his neck break. It sounded like… like…" Buffy's voice broke as she lost the words.

Faith heard her nightmare repeat behind her, but was too focused on Buffy to pay any attention to it. This was the most open she'd ever seen Buffy. The one she'd known back then kept secrets, hell, she reveled in her secrets. That Buffy never would have revealed even half of what this one just did.

Buffy; however, started again when she heard the murder. She watched the man stumble back and fall down the wall and headed over to him. She knelt down next to the dying man and reached out to touch his face with trembling fingers, only to stop when she heard his death rattle. When she finally spoke again her voice was as unsteady as her hand had been. "Finch was at the wrong place at the wrong time, but what happened to Ted was all my fault."

The look of sorrow on Buffy's face mirrored the expression of the younger Buffy, who was kneeling on the other side of the body. Faith knew what that night had dredged up for her – being forced to witness her Watcher's brutal murder and knowing that there was nothing that she could do but run - but for the first time she wondered what it had meant to Buffy. "No one told me about that one. What happened?"

"Mom hated me, everyone at school freaked if they got within ten feet of me and I thought I'd be put in prison for murder."

"But… You're still here, so I assume…"

"I got lucky, Ted came back. Turned out he was a robot that was drugging everybody and was after mom to complete his collection of housewives."

"Only in Sunnydale."

"Only in Sunnydale."

Faith knew that Buffy wasn't a saint, but she was never sure that Buffy knew that before now. And to hear the girl admit it… In some ways it helped, but in others… "But you still freaked."

Buffy looked back at Faith. "You didn't?"

Faith was all set to say she didn't. After all she was as badass as Buffy was goody two-shoes. But her eyes kept going back the bod… to Finch's face. "Of course I freaked. Freaked even more when I realized just how badly you did. Why else do you think I went to work for the Mayor?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"I don't know," Faith turned away, only to flinch when she heard the body hit the ground behind her. "I thought I could infiltrate the Mayor's set up. Scope out what he was doing and stop him. Figured that would make up for…"

"What happened?"

"He bought me a Playstation, B. How can a girl say no to that?"

"Easy."

Faith couldn't deny it, so she didn't even try. "Should have been, but he was nice to me, too nice to be a bad guy. Besides, I caught the vibes. He wanted me around as much as you, all of you, didn't."

"That's not true…" Buffy said, her voice weak as her eyes went to the pavement.

Faith bit back a laugh. "Please. I disgusted you and the G-man, Red had hated me ever since I'd shown up, and the Xand-man only wanted me for my bod."

"That's not true. At least not totally. Giles and I were worried about you, Willow was jealous because I was freezing her out, and Xander… I used to get scared thinking about what Xander would be willing to do for us."

"You don't anymore?" Faith knew the second she asked it was a stupid question, and if she didn't Buffy's snort would've driven it home.

"The day after I met him he followed me down into vampire-infested sewers because one of his friends needed help. I did everything I could think of to drive him away, but he never left. Not even when we were fighting a hell god who had just tortured Spike and Tara. He was the only one who stayed."

"I know that now," Faith said, and tried to sound indignant. It didn't last long. "I knew it then too, though a fat lot of good it did for me then. Or for him." She felt her hands around his neck and remembered the look on his face as she choked the life out of him. It wasn't fear, or horror, or disgust. She could've dealt with any of those. No. It was sorrow. Not for him, for her. "We were both idiots back then."

"I know," Buffy said, only brightening when she felt the ring on her left hand.

Faith took as deep breath as the fetid air would allow and wondered what things would have been like if they'd had a talk like this right after this nightmare happened instead of waiting four years. But that was of the past, just like the alley around them, and she was sick to death of the past. "So, how did I get into this trance thing?"

"Giles thinks that the spell's been inside of you for years and the vamp that you dusted tonight triggered it." Buffy paused, like she wasn't sure how much more she should tell. Finally she added, "He thinks the Mayor put it on you."

"The boss did this?" Faith asked and felt sick. He was the one person who never betrayed her. No matter how Looney Tunes or evil he was at least he had that much going for him. Now… "The G-man's sure?"

"Yeah. The Mayor was the only one who could, or at least would. Who else would put you in a coma if you killed a certain vampire."

Faith nodded. "He wanted me out of the way in case I did… Boss wasn't stupid. A hypochondriac and a miniature golf junkie maybe, but not stupid."

"Yeah, he was a lot of chuckles," Buffy said, her voice dry. "When he wasn't planning on eating the graduating class and destroying the town."

"I didn't say he was perfect," Faith protested without heart. She'd known what he was, and if she didn't, this little stab to the heart was all the wake up she needed. "So, how do we get out of here?"

Buffy pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Well, I'm supposed to tell you that you're the only one who can break the spell, but beyond that..."

"What, you just came here to keep me company?"

Buffy smiled without humor. "Hey, I'm just message girl."

"But you don't know how?" Buffy shrugged and Faith shook her head. "Knew that would be too easy."

"Tara says it should be something simple. So, no Latin. And that's always a plus."

"Simple? How simple? We could be here all day just going through the boxes. Why don't you pop out and see if they can vague things up a little more?"

A nervous chuckle slipped past Buffy's lips. "Well, that's the thing. I kinda can't, or at least shouldn't. At least not until we get you outta here."

Faith couldn't believe her ears. "What? You knew you'd be stuck in here and you came anyway?"

"I had to… Hey!"

Faith fought down the urge to slap Buffy upside the head again, mainly because she knew she'd break her hand before she slapped any sense into the girl. "Are you mental?! Anyone could have come and told me that, Xander, Anya, Dawn, Giles… But no, you had to come and be the hero."

"It's not their job," Buffy said, her voice harsh. "And I thought you'd be appreciative."

"Yup, definitely break my hand," Faith muttered before she got back to Buffy. "I am, but it's not your job either. Not anymore." Faith steeled herself for the fight she knew was coming. After all, Slayers – even former – weren't exactly known for their calmness.

But it never came. Sure, Buffy got all squinty like she did when she heard something she didn't like and she curled her hands up into fists, but it didn't last long before she deflated. "I know. I knew it the moment I volunteered, but I had to do something. Besides, Tara said that our both being Slayers helped."

It sounded good. Hell, it might have actually been true, but only the witch girl knew for sure. Besides, whether or not B was being an idiot didn't matter quite as much as the fact that she was willing to do all this. Especially with their history. "Thanks."

Buffy blushed and looked away. "Don't have to."

"I know. Thanks anyway."

"You're welcome."

Faith took a deep breath to steel herself for what she knew she had to say, what she'd been wanting to say for the last three years, even though she knew it would never be enough. "I'm sorry. For the mayor, for Riley, for Angel, for… Well, for pretty much everything up to and including this."

"I know. I knew it when you turned yourself in, just took me a while to figure it out. I'm sorry, too," Buffy said and her eyes darted down to Faith's stomach.

Faith's throat tightened as she brushed her hand across her abdomen. There was only pathetic little white scar to mark where Buffy had driven a knife into her. "No big."

"No big?" Buffy couldn't keep the shock out of her voice. "I tried to kill you!"

"And I was trying to kill you, and maybe I was trying to make you kill me. I knew what I was doing, B. I was a big girl and I was helping the bad guy. Just took a knife to the stomach to make me admit it." Faith took a deep breath and forced up a devilish smile. "Now, let's get out of here before this gets any more mushy."

Buffy nodded as she pasted on a shaky grin of her own. "Any ideas?"

"Faith, no!"

Faith shuddered. She'd almost managed to forget about the endlessly repeating nightmare behind them. She turned and watched the man fall to the ground and felt the faintest stir of an idea. "Yeah, I've got one."

Buffy looked confused. "What?"

"You'll see." Faith moved closer and watched the phantom Buffy's frantic attempts to save the Assistant Mayor's life, followed by the two phantoms running for the street and vanishing as soon as they crossed the threshold of the alley.

"Faith, no!" The other Buffy shouted again as the other Faith drove her stake down, straight for a somewhat innocent man's chest.

But it never got there. Faith's hand was closed around the fake's wrist, who's arm shook with effort but the didn't move an inch. Then she grabbed the stake with her free hand and ripped it from the fake's grasp. "I'll take that."

The three ghosts looked at Faith in shock, a shock mixed with pained anger in the case of the other Faith, before they dissolved away, leaving the real Buffy and Faith alone in the alley.

Buffy walked over and stared at the empty spot on the ground before she finally turned to Faith. "How did you know?"

"Didn't," Faith answered as she twirled the stake around in her fingers. "I was just tired of the reruns."

"Well, I have to say…" Buffy began, only to be cut off when someone started clapping behind them.

"Good show, good show," Mayor Richard Jenkins the third said. He had a bright – if somewhat deranged – grin on his face and a proud look in his eye as he took in Faith. "Of course, I didn't expect anything less. Not from my girl."

Faith felt cold as she stared at the dead man. "Boss?"

"In the flesh, or an amazing simulation of it anyway. It's the thought that counts, right?" Wilkins broke down into a laugh that would have been a giggle for anyone else, but his had too much of an edge to it to be a giggle. Then, just as soon as the laugh came it stopped and all trace of joviality left his face. "Of course not. That's just something old wives tell themselves, and you can trust me on that because I had an old wife. Action is the only thing that counts. And you must've done something, missy, or else we wouldn't be here."

The mayor marched forward, straight for Faith, at least until Buffy stepped between them and dropped down into a combat stance. "Faith?"

Faith wished she could answer, but she couldn't, not even when Buffy glanced back at her. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even blink. She stood there, frozen.

"I don't know which of my boys you've killed, but I know I didn't allow it. Mainly because if I did all of this," he paused and spread his arms to encompass the cold alley, "wouldn't be happening. So I can only assume you've been. A. Very. Bad. Girl."

Buffy held her ground as the man who should still have been snake jerky bore down on her. As soon as he was close enough she lashed out. Her punch was weak and sloppy, the kind that Giles' would never let her forget if he had seen it, but it still should have hurt. Shots to the throat usually do. It might have, if Buffy's fist hadn't passed through the Mayor like he was so much smoke.

Buffy punched at his stomach, only to have the same thing happen again. "He's not real, Faith. He's just another memory."

The Mayor stepped through Buffy and stopped in front of Faith. He glared down with the full wrath of God look going. Then he ruined it all by punching her in the arm and laughing again. "Ah, don't feel too bad. I've thought of killing the whole lot of them myself on occasion. At least I better have. If I hadn't I'd really need to re-think this whole demon thing, wouldn't I?"

It was the laugh that got to Faith, the laugh that always got to her. It didn't seem right that he used the exact same laugh whether he just made a hole-in-one or was planning the massacre of her friends.

He almost seemed to be reading her mind. "Unless this is about getting back with your so-called friends. Summers and her lot. That would just hurt. Especially after all I've given you." He snapped his fingers and the alley shrunk down and morphed into her apartment. It was just like she remembered it, all the way down to her pile of comics in the corner.

"And all he's taken from you. Can't forget that," Buffy added, keeping her tone gentle even as her eyes burned into Faith.

But the former Mayor wasn't done with his pitch yet. "I'm not angry. You can have it all back, Faith. All you have to do is say you're sorry. Do that and you can have all this back."

Faith looked around her apartment again and made up her mind. "All right. I'm sorry."

"What?" Buffy said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

Wilkins just grinned. "Excellent, my dear. Just hold on and I'll have us out of here in a jiff."

Faith's hand tightened around the stake. "I'm sorry 'cause I didn't go right for the top that night."

The implanted phantom of Mayor Wilkins barely had time to look stunned as Faith jammed the wood stake deep into his chest. He barely got out a "Well, gosh," before he vanished like fog in the wind.

Faith knew it was her last chance, so she turned to look at her apartment. It was the best place she'd ever lived. So good that she'd almost gotten it back when she made her triumphant return to Sunnydale. It was up for rent, after the previous tenants had – vanished one night. She could've gotten it back. Would've been expensive, but if B could hold down a job while Slaying and taking care of Dawn it wouldn't have been any big for her to do it take care of herself.

The landlord even remembered her, not that she would've been all that hard to forget, and would've been more than happy to let her move back in, despite her… colorful past. So she'd gone in and the place felt like home – for all of two seconds. That was when she glanced out to the balcony.

She left her old home so fast she probably left skid marks. After that moving in with Giles was a relief. A chance at a new start, even if she did have to room with an ex-librarian. 'Course it helped that the G-man wasn't as big a tool as she remembered. If nothing else, the man knew how to play his guitar. Besides, she and Dawn had a blast going through all his old records, if for nothing else than to make fun of the people on the covers.

"You scared me," Buffy said as the apartment began to vanish.

Faith laughed and pulled Buffy in for a hug. "You and Dawn are too gullible B. Besides, who cares about a dusty old Playstation anyway?"

Buffy's laugh was the last sound in the void.

Faith sat up with a jolt, her heart in her throat. It took her a couple very loud heartbeats to remember where she was, not that the ugly dark green couch she was sitting on hurt. She heard a moan in front of her and saw Tara crumble to the floor, the witch's face drawn with effort, while Buffy sank back in her the chair. Both of the women looked as bad as she felt, right down to the headache that had settled in behind her eyes.

There was a flurry of motion as Giles knelt down to help Tara while Xander and Anya checked on Buffy, but it was all blocked out by a sudden dark shape with long brown hair appeared in front of her.

"Hey, short stuff. I hear you're the one who saved my ass," Faith said as she reached over to ruffle Dawn's hair. "Owe you one."

Dawn blushed and shrugged, both from the praise and to get Faith's hand off her head. "It wasn't anything. To tell you the truth, it was a lot easier than all those times I had to bail Buffy out."

"Hey!" Buffy shouted and pushed everyone away so she could scowl at Dawn better. "When did you ever bail me out?"

"Well… There was that time Harmony had you chained to a wall…"

"That was you!"

Faith half-listened as more and more people jumped into family squabble and was amazed by how wasted she felt, especially considering she was out for the last few hours. She almost fell asleep right there, even as the argument went on around her, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Faith looked up with sleep blurred eyes and saw Giles sitting next to her on the couch.

"Go to bed," Giles said.

"But…" Faith said and motioned to the gang and the argument still in progress.

"They'll still be fighting tomorrow," Giles pointed out with some trepidation, "God help us all. Now, go to bed."

Faith opened her mouth to protest again, but all that came out was a yawn. "All right," she agreed and pushed herself up off the surprisingly comfortable couch and headed for her bedroom.

Faith staggered into her room and almost closed the door behind her, but finally decided to leave it open a crack. She didn't bother to get undressed, she just collapsed onto her bed and let the sound of the argument was over her. The squabbling was soothing actually. Besides, she didn't think she could get out of bed again if she tried

She lay there and stared at the blank white walls that surrounded her. "I have to get pictures," she murmured to herself as the room went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" Dawn jerked upright when she heard the door slam. She less than subtly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the soft leather cuff of Spike's trenchcoat tickled at her nose.

Awake where was the question. She recognized parking lot, but couldn't remember why she was at the Supermarket. Her head felt like it was stuffed with vamp dust – which it might very well be by this point. And who knew what that stuff did to your lungs? The undead really should come with a Surgeon General's warning; 'May cause severe blood loss and lung cancer' – and tried to figure out what was going on.

The last thing she remembered was getting back from Giles' and collapsing into her bed. Then a few fun but rather blurred dreams about that new quarterback at school and then…

"Well, good," Anya said with a confused smile as she sat down. "It was your snoring that threw me off."

"I don't snore," Dawn said automatically and with more of an edge then she intended. She loved Anya, she really did, she just didn't like the girl all that much. The ex-demon was annoyingly literal, had a knack for telling embarrassing stories that put even Buffy to shame, and acted all superior just because of the whole age difference - like a few centuries mattered all that much anyway.

Anya only had going for her; at least as far as Dawn was concerned. She made Buffy and Xander happy, so Dawn loved her for that; the whole threesome weirdness aside.

"Of course not. Though if it wasn't you, then the Rock Slogg's mating season must've started earlier than normal this year."

Maybe love was putting it too strong, Dawn thought as she laid her head back against the headrest. Now all she had to do was remember why she was up at… "What time is it?"

"Quarter to nine. Sorry that took so long. There was a line." Anya flashed an apologetic smile as she set a small paper bag down by her knees and started the engine. "Though I can understand why you're excited, what with this being your first day as a Magic Box employee. I remember my first day…"

Dawn rolled her eyes and groaned as Anya went on and on. How could she be so stupid? No amount of money was worth giving up her God given right to sleep 'till noon on her winter break. It wasn't her fault that Giles and Anya were short on help.

No, it was Buffy's. She's probably having a good laugh right now, assuming she wasn't still asleep in that comfy king sized bed of hers. She probably got pregnant just so she wouldn't have to work this close to the holidays. That lazy, conniving little… "Bitch."

"I said I was sorry."

Dawn started at the hurt she heard in Anya's voice. She turned and saw the ex-demon staring straight ahead, her mouth a thin red line. "It's not… I didn't mean…"

The apology died in Dawn's mouth. Today was proving to be an extra special day. In less then nine hours she'd had to rescue Faith, wake up early on her vacation, and now accidentally insult her in-law. There was no way in Sunnydale things could get any worse.

No, wait, she still had to spend the next ten hours with customers. Goody. You'd think something had to go right sooner or…

Then she remembered the bag Anya had put down. "Please tell me you bought me some peanut butter cups." Anya must have, it was the Golden Rule of the Summers family – candy was king, and you can never have too much – made just for days like today. Dawn unhooked her seatbelt and leaned over to scoop up the bag.

"Dawn, no!" Anya shouted and tried to kick the bag away, but Dawn was too quick. She sat up, her face beaming and the prize in her lap. Anya made another grab for the bag, but Dawn elbowed the hand away.

"I only got four hours of sleep last night, so I think I've earned some chocolaty goodness," Dawn said as she turned the sack upside down. "Don't worry, I'll split it with…"

A small white box fell into Dawn's hand instead of the promised sweetness. Her eyes darted across the label, her horror increasing with each letter, until all she wanted to do was drop the box. Or better yet toss it into the backseat, where it would never be seen again. But all she could so was stare down and whisper, "That's not candy,"

Anya pushed past and ripped the home pregnancy test out of Dawn's frozen hand and shoved it back into the bag. "You weren't supposed to see that."

"But…" Dawn began. Then it finally sank in what she'd been holding and let out a strangled scream as she wiped her hand off on her jeans. "That's not candy."

"It's nothing," Anya said as she jammed the bag under her seat.

"Well, I'm pretty sure we can count out splitting it, but you shouldn't be embarrassed…" After all, Dawn was enough for both of them.

Anya must have thought otherwise, at least judging by how white her knuckles were on the steering wheel. "It's nothing! At least nothing you're old enough to know about."

At any other time Dawn could have ignored the remark. After all, she'd had years of experience in dealing with Anya and this moment was far from the most embarrassing – that was reserved for all those long nights she'd spent on the couch while the ex-demon, Xander and Buffy got biblical in the bedroom not ten feet away - but it was too much to take on only four hours of sleep. "God, I'm so sick of you doing that. Treating me like I'm two just because you're older than most of the countries on the map…"

"Dawnie," Anya began what could have been either an apology or an attempt to quiet her down, but Dawn wouldn't have any of it.

"Don't 'Dawnie' me. I do know about these things. My sister's going to have a baby of her own any day now, so how could I not. Frell, she isn't even the first girl I know who got pregnant. And just for your information I'm sixteen. You know, this many." She saws and counts off with her fingers.

"Well, actually, you're only three."

Dawn gritted her teeth. "Then you're only five. 'Cause if my made up memories don't count than neither do your thousand years. At least I know what the 'Cat and the Hat' is."

Anya winced at the last. "So do I. Tara gave us a copy at the baby shower. The story is nonsensical and dubious."

"It's a story for babies!" Dawn all but screamed.

"Then you should find it highly enjoyable!" Anya shouted back.

Dawn felt her mouth gape open as a bitter little noise escaped her throat and her hand went to the door handle. "Fine, I'm sure you don't need my help at the Box today. Wouldn't want a little baby like me to break anything."

With that Dawn got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. She turned and stormed away, not caring where she went as long as it was away. Not that it mattered, because Anya missed the hint yet again and came running before she got fifty feet.

"Dawn, wait."

Dawn stopped and turned around, her arms crossed as Spike's black trench coat billowed around her legs. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

Dawn stood there, statue-like except for her foot tapping on the sidewalk. "Sorry about what?"

"For treating you as a squealing infant, apparently."

Dawn scowled at the almost apology, but knew she wasn't going to get anything better. So she decided to settle for an answer. "Why? Why do you do it?"

"I do not."

"You so do. You're always doing it."

Now Anya was the one scowling. "Not always…"

"Yes always."

"Because to me you are?"

Dawn snorted. "Please. I'm only four years younger than Buffy and Xander and you don't treat them like this.

Anya glanced up and down the sidewalk to make sure they were alone before she mumbled something.

"What?"

"Because it wasn't fair!" Anya shouted. Then she blushed when she realized how loud she'd been. She sank down to the curb of the sidewalk and pulled her knees up to her chest. "It wasn't fair. I was dumped here – alone - as a senior in high school. Do you have any idea what that was like? I'd never gone to one, unless you count stopping in every now and then to grant a wish, and being a thousand years old doesn't mean diddly on a history final - especially when the teacher actually believes the pap they put in the books. While you came ready made, with friends and a family and all the pop culture references that pretty little head of yours could hold."

"So you treated me like a two year old because you thought you had a raw deal?"

"Well, that and you were rather whiny for the first two years I actually knew you."

"Better whinny than a walking letter to Penthouse." Dawn smirked to hide the fact that she felt like an idiot and she sank down next to Anya. This is why she'd rather be in bed, because her foot and mouth shared an unnatural attraction if she spent anything less then nine hours of a day asleep.

The two sat side by side, watching traffic, until Dawn realized something and turned to Anya with a look of almost awe on her face. "Wait, you didn't have to go to school? Not even when you were first human?"

"No. The village I grew up in was very small and placed little to no value on learning."

"But I thought you knew magic and stuff?"

Anya grinned with pride. "Yes. I taught myself to read. Olaf used to bring me whatever books he could find in raids."

"Olaf?"

"My hus… My boyfriend. The one I turned into a troll. Say, look at the time." Anya said and started to get up.

At least until Dawn clamped her arm around Anya's and pulled the older girl back down. She wasn't giving up now, not when she smelled blood. "Your husband? I thought…"

"I was married once before," Anya said, her voice hard. "To Olaf, when I was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Dawn's stomach tightened at the idea of anyone; or worse, her, being married at fourteen. "How old…"

"He was twenty-six."

Dawn made a face. "Talk about robbing the cradle."

"It was different then," Anya said with a shake of her head. "He was a highly respected warrior – killer of many trolls – who'd lost his first wife to one of the many illnesses of the time. My parents waited the customary time for mourning then paid a suitably large dowry."

"Did… did he love you?"

Anya shrugged. "In his way."

"Did you?"

"Love him?" Anya shrugged again, though this time it was with a rigid jerk than the graceful way she usually moved. "I don't know. I thought so, then. Before he… And after these last few years…"

"Then why?"

"…did I curse him?" Anya finished as any trace of humor fled from her voice. "Because he cheated on me. With a bar maiden with load bearing hips."

"He liked big butts?" Dawn asked with a giggle. Then she saw the despair in Anya's face and choked the giggle down.

"It didn't have anything to do with…. She could have children."

"What?"

"She could have children and I…" Anya leapt to her feet and stomped away with her arms wrapped around her stomach.

Dawn jumped up and followed. "You what?"

Anya spun around in a sudden rage, though there were wet streaks running down her cheeks. "I couldn't, all right? We were married for six years and I never…"

Dawn stood there frozen while Anya kept going, unable or unwilling to stop.

"That's why I got into magic in the first place, to see if there was anything… The other women thought I was cursed, so they avoided me as much as possible. The few I hadn't already annoyed with my overly literal questions, anyway. And then he went off and slept with that whore.

"He was always so understanding, so willing to bring me the books he could find. He couldn't read, so he brought everything he could find to me. I used to wonder if he ever figured out he brought me the spell that changed him."

Then the rage in Anya's eyes, which was just embers of the betrayal she'd felt a thousand years ago, flickered and died. "I didn't worry about it after D'Hoffryn made me Anyanka, or when Xander and I first started because we always used protection. I did some reading over the years and decided it was all Olaf's fault that I never… but now… but now I'm so afraid that there's something wrong with me, because Xander and I have been trying for months and I can't…"

"It's not your fault," Dawn said and reached out to pat Anya's shoulder, but let her hand flop back to her side when Anya flinched away.

Anya wiped away the wet tracks on her cheeks. "Of course it is. It has to be. I mean, Buffy got pregnant on the very first night the three of us were together," Dawn shuddered as she always did when she thought of her sister doing… that, while Anya continued, "So it isn't Xander. It has to be… What if I can't? I've done so many horrible things… What if this is my punishment?"

Dawn stared at Anya as the ex-demon broke down again and wished that Tara was here, or Xander, or Buffy, or Giles, or even Spike. They would know what to do, how to help, while she just stood here lost. Then she said the only thing she could, "Then you move on. For Buffy and Xander. And for Jessie. Unless she isn't enough."

"Of course she is." Anya looked a touch less miserable as she searched her pockets for a tissue. "She's going to be beautiful."

"Well, duh. Just look at her parents. All of them."

Anya looked at Dawn through her bloodshot eyes. "You're going to make a very good Ant Bee."

Dawn opened her mouth to ask, but decided she was better off not knowing. Then she realized what had been itching at the back of her head. "If you don't think you can… then why did you buy the test?"

"I've been buying them once a week since…" Anya looked a bit lost. "Please don't tell Xander and Buffy about… well, pretty much any of this. I don't want them to worry."

Dawn didn't like it – she thought that her sister and brother-in-law should know about what Anya was going through – but in the end it wasn't her decision. "All right. As long as you tell them yourself. Sometime soonish."

Anya scowled at the condition, but in the end caved. "Is there anything else?"

Dawn was about to say no, but then her eyes sparkled. "Just one more thing. You have to tell me your real name."

Anya scowled at the jump. "What?"

"I've always wondered. It's not like Angel or Spike were born with those names, and you said D'Hoffryn made you Anyanka. So I wanna know. What was your real name?"

"You know it. It's Anya."

"Oh, please." Dawn knew it would be good just from the way Anya was squirming. She just hoped she could pronounce it again. She never could say any of the names in Giles books.

Anya gave in with a long-suffering sigh when she realized Dawn wasn't going to give up. "Fine. It's Aud."

"Well, it's been a thousand years, so of course it's odd."

Anya shook her head. "No. Aud. A.U.D."

"Your name is Odd?" Dawn asked. She managed to keep a straight face right up until Anya nodded. Then she burst out laughing.

"It was a very popular name," Anya claimed, which only made Dawn laugh harder. Anya sat there and took it, her mood darkening. "If you tell anyone… And I mean anyone else that, I'll make sure we never buy you another piece of chocolate."

Dawn's laugh died as if someone had flipped a switch. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Dawn's glare met Anya's in a pitched battle of wills, but the outcome was never in doubt. Not when the price was that high.

"That's right. I'm glad we have an understanding," Anya gloated and glanced down at her watch. Then she looked at it again, her eyes wide. "We're late! The store should've been opened ten minutes ago!" She said and broke into a run for her car.

"Can't Giles handle it?" Dawn asked as she chased after Anya.

"Pft. The man can handle a dozen vampires without flinching, but throw him in with a few customers and he freezes. It's sad, really."

"Well, vampires only want to kill you…"

Anya ignored her as they climbed into the car and took off. They made it to the Magic Box in less then eight minutes, only to see a middle age lady walking away from the dark shop.

Anya slammed the keys into Dawn's hand. "Go open the store, while I catch up with my money." With that she got out of the car and went running after the lady.

Dawn shook her head as she got out and unlocked the door. She hit the lights before she gave the place a once over. After all, you never know what might have gotten out in a magic store.

Or in a parking lot, or in someone's back yard for that matter. She still didn't know what to make of Faith's breakdown last night. The spell thing she could get, because hello, but she'd been hanging with Faith for months now – told her all the things she couldn't tell anyone else – and never had a clue as to how much the girl had kept bottled up for the last four years.

At least she'd tried to help Faith, but she didn't even know Anya… Aud… Anya was in trouble. Sure, the ex-demon had woken up screaming from nightmares, but who in her house hadn't? She'd assumed it was from her years as a demon, but she never thought… What if she was being punished? And if she was, how could anyone help?

Dawn didn't know how to help either, hell, any of them. Not even her own sister. Sure Buffy acted tough, but she knew it was an act. Knew it in the same way that she knew Faith's toughness was genuine.

Only it wasn't, not really. No one in her family was as tough as they pretended. It wasn't a happy realization. Dawn hated change, and lately that was all that happened. The threesome getting together, Amy and Willow dying, Tara and Spike leaving, nothing stayed the same.

Well, almost nothing. Everything in the Magic Box looked normal, which wasn't always a given, not with all the doodads lying about. She did a quick walkthrough to be sure, but everything was of the good, except for a large handprint on the glass of the display case.

Dawn bent over and fogged the glass with her breath and rubbed at the spot with the cuff of her jacket. She glanced at her reflection in the glass and decided she didn't look as tired as she felt, the first pleasant surprise of the day.

Followed immediately by the worst as a hand clamped down on her shoulder. Dawn's stomach dropped to her stomach while whoever was behind her leaned down and whispered, "Is that any way to treat a bloke's coat?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Must you?"

"What can I say, G-man, I just feel like movin' today."

"Sigh. I warned you that this would happen if you kept drinking that horrid sludge of yours."

"Nothing's wrong with my coffee."

"That… concoction is nothing but caffeine and sugar…"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"… Bloody Colonials."

Tara sat in the backseat of the car, her hand over her mouth, watching Faith dancing in hers while ignoring the glares Giles kept sending the Slayer's way. She'd missed this fangless bickering while she was gone. Missed that and so many other things; milkshakes with Dawn, video nights featuring Xander's endless search for the world's worst movie, window shopping with Buffy, the all night research parties at Giles', the little one bedroom apartment she shared with…

Not that England and the Coven weren't great. She'd learned so much from the other witches in the Coven. Things about magic, about herself, things she'd never even dreamt.

And the country itself was breathtaking, every bit as exotic as she'd imagined. She'd wanted to see it all, had spent every moment she wasn't studying exploring. Often by getting on a road and seeing where it went

But it wasn't home.

A fact that was driven home whenever she tried some candy, or read a new spell book, or walked down the street and saw a flash of bleached blond hair in the crowd…

"Hey! I love that song!" Faith shouted after Giles reached over and turned off the radio, signaling the beginning of round two.

Tara was glad for the distraction, anything to get her out of the swirling mess of her own thoughts. There were days when she was actually jealous of how easy Buffy, Anya, and Xander had had it, which always made her either laugh out loud or want to burst into tears.

"That isn't music. It's just random loud noise with people talking over it," Giles sniffed, "and I believe you and Dawn have listened to enough of my old albums to know the difference. But that's…"

Faith was almost vibrating with anticipation when she interrupted. "Yeah, and we were really impressed by you collection of the Beejee's. Did you have the platform shoes and rhinestone jacket that went with? And please say someone took a picture of you wearing them, otherwise it's just a waste."

"As. I. Was. Saying," Giles' repeated, biting off each word while crushing down on the steering wheel. "I was going to put off your training for today, after your ordeal last night, but since you have the energy…"

Faith didn't seem the least bit thrown. Instead she just leaned back cracked her knuckles, and walked into the trap. "Bring it on. I've been wanting to kick some non-metaphysical ass all morning."

Giles, thankfully, didn't disappoint. "That may be, but that's not the type of training I was talking about. Today I believe we'll focus more on the mental side of your calling. There are several centering techniques I've been meaning to show you."

Faith let out a long, low groan and slammed her foot down on the floor. "That's not training. That's death by slow torture. Why don't you just use tie me up and use me for vampire bait? It'd be more humane."

"It's not that horrible," Giles said, trying to sound sympathetic and understanding. In the end, though, it just highlighted his glee. "Not as horrible as the noise you listen to, at any rate. Besides, you might actually stay awake through the lesson this time now that you're so liberally caffeinated."

Faith snorted and sunk back into her seat in a snit. "Doubt it."

Tara felt for Faith, but knew Giles was right. Besides, she thought that most of Faith's grousing was for show. Everyone in the car knew what happened without control. Faith had her nose shoved in it last night, and Giles…

The older members of the Coven had told her stories about Giles' early days, usually in hushed tones. As if they were afraid they'd call up 'the Ripper' if they said the name too loud. Most of it was childish stunts, more nuisances than acts of chaos, but the rest… She couldn't believe the man sitting in front of her had called up demons just for a rush. And then he turned his back on it all.

There were days were she wished she was strong enough to that, to just give up the magic, and days where she was terrified she might have no choice.

Unless she wanted to end up like Willow. A power fueled by rage; rage against the world, against her friends, against herself, mixed until the rage and power consumed themselves and her with them.

She spent the first few months after Willow died trying to think of something that she could have done to stop it. Maybe right back at the beginning, back when they were both just starting to learn about the power they had. When she was timid and terrified that Willow might leave her alone again if she refused to help, horrified about what would happen if Willow got curious and wondered why.

All because her father would rather have his daughter believe she was a demon then do his own laundry.

But Tara knew she there was nothing she could have done to save Willow. Willow had always been driven by her need to control: to control herself, to control her friends and to control the world. It started when she was little and had none, either at home or at school, only grew worse when her life of fighting the good fight gave her access to the magic that gave her the powers she needed and came to a head with a random bullet.

A thousand to one shot. God's way of saying, 'fuck you,' according to Spike.

She still remembered the sight of Amy's blood on Willow's face and the frozen pit in her stomach because she knew it could have been hers if she'd been standing one foot more to the right.

After that everything else was inevitable; Willow trying and failing to resurrect Amy in a desperate attempt to regain control, attacking Tara and Spike in the woods, flaying Warren, crucifying Buffy, trying to drive a bullet into Anya, forcing Xander to slice the throat of his best friend to save one of the women he loved, all the while thinking that the other was already dead.

And if what happened was inevitable for Willow, how could it be any less for her? She'd taken her first step that night, trying to stop Willow. Then a month later she started running down the path.

Tara remembered everything about that night. Buffy tied to a sacrificial rock, which throbbed with power even though it hadn't been used in a hundred years, while Travers stood over her, his thoughts awash with Buffy's blood. The fact that Buffy was pregnant hadn't meant a thing to him, all that mattered was what had happened to Slayer essence that Willow had tried to steal.

Tara had seen it all by accident. She was hiding in the woods; waiting for Spike to finish hunting the last of the Watchers Travers had brought with him, too scared of her power to help. But even though she'd forced it down the magic still slipped out, giving her a flash of Travers' plan.

She wasn't the one scared of her power after that.

The other Watchers fell so fast that it was almost funny. They were little boys playing war, really. Tossed around when the real thing found them. By the time she'd found Travers she could hear the magic singing to her and was ready to do things to him that were a thousand times worse than what he wanted to do to Buffy. It would have been so easy…

She would have killed Travers; she knew it that night even though it took her months to admit it to herself. She would have killed anyone who got in her way if it wasn't for…

"Blondie, you awake back there? I said we're here."

Tara's eyes leapt up in surprise. It hadn't felt like anywhere near long enough, but Faith was telling the truth. The plain off-white front of the Magic Box was sitting right in front of them, its lights shinning through the blinds even though the 'Closed' sign was still up for some reason. It didn't look like much, it was almost like seeing an old friend. Her, everyone's home away from home away from home.

"Blondie?" Faith asked again, this time with some worry.

"Yeah, I'm j…just thinking about some things," Tara said as she got out of the car and tried to stretch out the tight muscles in her back. Spike always said she was in her 'Angel mood' when she got like this. Or, more accurately, he spat the phrase out while gnawing through the end of his cigarette and immediately falling into a lunatic rant about a man she'd never met.

Giles opened his door and got out. He wasn't wearing his glasses – come to think about it she hadn't seen him wear his glasses once since she got back – so there was nothing to hide the worry in his eyes. "Are you sure? Last night must've been draining. I could take you back…"

"No! No, I'm fine," Tara lied. She would've felt like death if it wasn't for a vigor spell she'd used this morning and knew she'd pay for that night. "Besides, you were up just as long and you're fine."

Giles smiled in a way that made his eyes light up and in that moment Tara hoped he would never wear his glasses again. "You forget. I'm a Watcher, and a Watcher scoffs at sleep."

"Which has nothing to do with why you put a couch in the training room," Faith said, her voice innocent in a way the rest of her never was.

Giles glared over at Faith. "That was for Buffy."

"Sure, G-man."

Giles' made a clucking sound with his tongue before he went back to Tara. "If you're sure, then maybe we could do some more work on those spells I gave you. I'm convinced we're at the cusp of a breakthrough."

The mere mention was enough to make Tara grimace. She'd been home a week and last night was the first time she'd seen most of the gang, all because of Giles obsession with that damned spell. It wouldn't be so bad if it were in some way demon related, but he swore it wasn't. It was just a pet project of his, a witch version of a scavengers hunt, trying to find a way to trace a scrying spell back to its source. "We've been trying for a week now, Giles. I don't think… Unless you've thought of something new."

"Maybe you're right. I suppose it was too much to hope for." Giles said so quickly that he must've realized the same thing a while ago.

Faith pulled herself out of the car via the open window and watched the two with expectation. "So, you can finally spill on the voodoo you two have been working on? Not that I mind the smell of incense, but the neighbors have been giving me the evil eye."

"It was nothing," Giles insisted. "Nothing important, anyway."

Faith seemed disappointed by the news. "So it's nothing to do with some slimy, tentacled big bad?"

There were something's about her home she didn't miss, like this was the one town where Faith's guess had a fighting chance of being right.

"No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause if something that looked all pissed off and ready to kill was sneaking up on us I'd like to know."

"As would I, but I can assure you that there's nothing…" Giles began, sounding quite sure right up to the moment a hand clamped down on his upper arm and spun him around.

Tara a familiar rush of energy as the instincts that only came from three years on a Hellmouth kicked in. She spun around, a shield spell forming in her mind, while she saw Giles reach for the cross he had hooked to his belt out of the corner of her eye. They were ready for anything.

Anything except a very angry Anya.

Faith leaned on the roof of the car and looked as pleased as a cat as she purred. "As long as you're sure."

"Anya, what's wrong?" Tara asked as she let the rush of magic slide away.

Anya ignored Tara, choosing instead to slap at Giles' chest. "Where were you? I had to chase a customer for three blocks because you didn't open the store on time! I thought I could count on you. After all you were the one who wanted the be more than a silent partner again!"

A wave of embarrassment passed over Giles' face as he stammered out an apology. "I'm sorry, Anya, but… Wait, weren't you supposed to open the store today?" He asked as a half-dozen lines crossed his forehead.

"Yes, but that's no excuse…" Anya said, clearly not ready to let that little fact stop her.

But Tara was stuck on something else. "You chased a customer?"

To her amazement Anya almost seemed proud. "Yes. She was very fast considering she was wearing high heels, but I would've caught up to her if that bus hadn't stopped. I don't know why those monstrosities had to choose today to run on time."

"You chased a woman down three blocks?" Giles asked, horrified.

Faith strolled over and put her arm around Anya's shoulders. "Never thought you had it in you, Demon Girl. Though we better start hiding the weapons before the cops show up."

Anya's eyes lit up. "You think they'll come? Maybe they'll buy some of our merchandise, after all there are only six more shopping days until Christmas."

"I… doubt it, Sweetie," Tara said as gently as she could.

"Yeah. Cops don't buy, they just break," Faith said, enjoying things far too much.

Anya frown turned into a full-fledged scowl. "They wouldn't dare."

"Maybe if you weren't trying to mug our customers…" Giles grumbled.

"I didn't try to mug her!"

"Nah," Faith agreed. "You just chased her for three blocks. Nothing wrong with that."

Anya nodded. "She was unreasonably anxious. I just wanted the money she was going to give me anyway."

Giles closed his eyes, not wanting to know but he didn't have a choice. "You didn't…"

"Of course not." Anya sounded insulted by the very thought. "Even though she offered several times. But that's not the proper way of doing things. I told her I would only take the money in exchange for goods or services."

Giles blinked hard. Then did it a dozen more times as his mind struggled to catch up. "You propositioned her?"

Faith laughed so hard that she had to wrap her arms around Anya to keep from falling over. "What's next? Did you knock over a bank on the way back?"

"No. You know that there aren't any banks in that direction. What's so funny?" Anya snapped, finally annoyed.

Tara shook her head in disbelief while Faith finally slid to the ground and Giles stared into space before she looked back at the lit up store. "Is Dawn in there, or did she help in the chase?"

"I sent her inside to open the store. I didn't want to lose any more customers," Anya said. "Why?"

"Because I don't want her to be surprised when the SWAT team shows up," Tara explained as she walked to the door. That must have sunk in with both Faith and Giles, because they both moved away from Anya.

Anya glared at the two of them. "I didn't do anything wrong. I was just trying to provide for my family."

"By mugging people?" Faith snickered.

"I didn't…"

The rest of Anya's protest was cut off when the door to the Magic Box closed behind Tara. "They're all crazy. Complete nut jobs, and I should know," Tara muttered as she took one last look back and doubted that they even realized she was gone.

"Then what's that make us?"

Tara's headshot back around when she heard the voice that had driven her mad while she was in England, where everywhere she went it felt like he was right behind her. Except this time he was.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?" Spike shot her his cockiest grin. She stood there, knowing that her mouth was hanging open but didn't care, and drank him in. He was standing in front of the counter, dressed in black leather pants and a blood red shirt. She took a hesitant step forward, wanting to touch him to make sure he was there, only to stop when she realized Dawn was there, still wearing Spike's coat, with her arms wrapped so tightly around Spike's stomach that breathing would've been a problem for anyone else.

Tara wanted to knock Dawn out of the way almost as much as she wanted to turn and run out the door, but she couldn't get her legs to move either way. In the end she could only ask, "You're back?" through her dry lips.

Spike made a show of looking around before he answered. "Looks like."

If Tara had been any closer she would've smacked him upside the head for that answer. He was enjoying watching her squirm far too much.

Then Dawn chimed in. "And look, his hair has actual color."

Spike's hand shot up to smooth back the unruly mess of platinum blond and dishwater brown hair that grew wild on his head. "Lay off, Niblet. I told you that they didn't have bleach where I've been."

"Maybe I should run down to the store real quick, 'cause right now you look like you should be in a basement, drooling and talking to yourself."

Spike snarled as he shoved Dawn away - well, gently nudged at any rate – before he vamped out and glowered down at the unimpressed teenager. "How do you know I didn't come back just to kill the lot of you?"

Dawn snorted. "Promises, promises."

"Sod off. Don't you have some knickknacks to pinch?"

Dawn winced. "I haven't done that in a year, thank-you-very-much. Besides, you're one to talk. Considering that you're the one who showed me how to…"

Now it was Spike's turn to wince. "Don't know what you're talking about," he claimed as he turned to Tara and gave her an innocent shrug.

"Sure you do, you showed me how to get the tinfoil and…"

"Dawn, go tell Giles that Spike's back," Tara interrupted. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but she knew she didn't want Dawn there, watching.

Dawn didn't see it that way. Instead she wrapped her arms around herself and got the world-famous Summers pout. "Why do I have to…?"

Spike reached over and ruffled Dawn's hair. "Do as she says, Niblet. We'll talk later."

Dawn's eyes went to his as she straightened her hair. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"Fine. Not like I'm not used to being shoved aside. Nope, breaking new ground here." Dawn sighed, but in the end she turned and walked out the door.

The pity act almost worked, Tara came this close to calling out and telling Dawn she could stay. The insane urge lasted right up to the moment Spike crossed the distance between them and put his cool hand on hers. "We'll make it up to her. But she wasn't the one I've come back to see."

Tara ran that sentence through her head a thousand times in a second, trying to figure out what he meant by that before she did what she always did at times like this… She turned bright red.

Spike didn't make it any better by adding. "Though hopefully I got back before the rug rat was born. They're only cute for the first few days…"

This time Tara did hit him, though she couldn't keep from laughing. Then she heard the bell over the door ring and she knew she was out of time. If Giles got a hold of Spike there'd be nothing but question for hours.

"Can w… we do this in the training room?" She didn't wait for him to answer as she grabbed his hand and almost yanked him off his feet in her rush. They got into the training room just in time. Tara closed and locked the door behind them just as Giles started to ask his first confused questions. She turned back and jumped when she realized how close Spike was standing.

If he was insulted, he gave no sign. Instead he ran his eyes over his face before the corner of his mouth lifted a fraction of an inch. "Good enough?"

"Good enough." Tara answered, though she didn't know for what until she launched herself against him with enough force to make him stumble back a step. Either that or she somehow managed to surprise him, and if she did he recovered quick. Because he found that spot on her neck and nibbled down and it was like the last few months never happened.

But they had, of course. A fact Tara realized a half hour later when they were both naked on the couch, covered only by her thin coat.

Spike must've realized it too, or else he always knew. "Feel better?"

"No." Tara admitted as the tattered remnants of the after-glow fled. She pressed her back against his cool chest to try and get some of the feeling back, but it didn't help.

"Didn't think so. But it was a nice distraction." To prove his point his hand slid down and then around her thigh.

"Not arguing," Tara sighed as his hand found its mark before she slapped it away. "Though I doubt that anyone'll want to sleep on this couch any time soon."

She felt Spike's laugh against her back. "You bloody daft? You think we're the first ones who've been in here? What with the world's horniest ex-demon running the place? Hell, even the Watcher and his Coven bird have…"

"Don't want to know." Tara crunched her eyes closed as the thought almost made her jump off the couch, but it was the most comfortable spot in the room. Besides, if Dawn's stories were even half-true she'd have to look long and hard to find a spot that Anya, Buffy and Xander hadn't already been.

"And I do?"

Tara laughed for the first time in months, just from imaging the look on Spike's face. Then she sighed and rested her head on his arm. "Where did you go?"

Spike didn't answer, and Tara realized she didn't have a right to expect one – current events non-withstanding. She was the one who broke it off, who ran halfway across the world. This was a mistake. She just missed him, missed everything, and being in a country where everyone sounded like him made it so much worse, then the surprise of seeing him again… She was just starting to get up when he answered.

"To get my soul."

It took a couple of heartbeats to register, then it was like her heart had stopped cold as she spun around to face him, not caring that she'd rolled right out from under the coat. She studied him, but couldn't see a difference, and wasn't sure if she could. After all what did a soul look like?

Spike watched her, exultant and expectant as he waited for her to ask the question. Either that or he was just enjoying the show.

"Did you?" Tara finally asked, not bothering to cover herself. It was pointless at this point.

He ran his hand across her cheek to watch her shiver before he answered.

"Well, that'd mean things went according to plan, wouldn't it?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

One Month Ago

Spike slipped through the crowded club with the grace of a shark. Most never even knew he was there, and the few who did were too caught up in enjoying the night to give him more than a second glance before they went back to the loud music and their silent conversations.

Which was fine with him. He wasn't there for the party. No, tonight he was on the hunt. And he'd been hunting this blond birdie for a long while now. He had almost lost her when she went into the club, but her bright yellow blouse and green skirt was a beacon in a room of black leather. She'd made it easier for him, in fact. Because she'd chosen a table right up front and had eyes only for the lead guitarist. So she never saw Spike as he circled ever closer.

Too bad she wasn't alone. She'd come in with another bird, a slightly older brunette who wore a nearly black blue dress that showed a hell of a lot more leg but was still conservative compared to the rest of the girls in the club.

Somehow he'd deal.

He was five paces away when the song ended and the club erupted with applause. He clapped too, not because of the song but because the brunette had finished her drink and was getting up for another. He waited until she'd almost passed before he reached out and grabbed her. She let out a pained gasp as his fingers dug into her arm, and then opened her mouth to scream when she saw his face. His real face.

He reached up and snapped her neck, almost laughing because the short hair tickled his palms.

His birdie turned when she heard the heavy thump, a smile still on her lips. His smile spread as hers was washed away in horror. She knocked her chair over in the rush to get to her feet, her mouth twisting with ancient words.

But he was quicker. He hoped over the brunette's twisted body, his black duster catching the air and spreading behind him like wings, and tackled his bird back against the stage. She let out a cry of pain as the wood edge dug into her back, the words that could save her forgotten as she struggled against him. He grinned as one of his hands pulled at her skirt and the other shoved her head back and to the side, exposing her long, porcelain neck.

Spike stood paralyzed on the stage and as his other self sank his fangs into the girl's neck. The guitar was heavy in his hands, forgotten and outclassed by the brutal music the two at his feet made, the animalistic growls and pathetic little mews that faded more with every passing second.

Finally that song stopped as the girl went quiet. The other Spike pulled back from her neck, blood running free down his chin, and grinned up at himself.

"Want a taste, mate? I don't mind sharing."

With that he shoved the girl's body up onto the stage at Spike's feet. The girl's head lolled on her ruined neck and for the first time he saw her face.

Tara's dead eyes stared up at him.

"NO!" Spike shouted as his lungs gasped for useless air. His hand fumbled for a light switch, only to get tangled in the thick curtain he had covering the RV's windows and pulled down the black fabric.

He let out a wordless cry of pain as the bright sunlight burned into his bare back and rolled away into the safety of what little darkness there was in the small room, all the while wishing he had stayed in the light longer.

Because he could still almost taste Tara's blood as it ran down his throat, feel her soft skin under his hands and hear her panicked breathing. Intoxicating. Everything a vampire lived for, everything he lived for.

"No, not anymore," Spike whispered to himself without conviction.

The beam of sunlight spilt the room in front of him, taunting him with the promise of an easy out. It'd be better than staking himself. At least this way he'd get to see the sun again. Hadn't seen it in over a century – not counting the mess with the Ring of Amara. He'd seen everything else but not that.

He was halfway to the window, close enough to see the endless desert on the other side of the glass, before he stopped himself. "Not my way to do things easy. No sense starting now."

He hoped it was more than bravado, but knew it wasn't.

He turned away from the sunlight and went to the refrigerator, which was at the front of the tight room, right next to the black blanket that separated his living room from the drivers seat, and pulled the door open. Inside there was a bag of blood and a dozen bottles of Scotch. His stomach rumbled. It'd been so long since he'd eaten that even a rat would look good now. His finger brushed at the cool plastic bag before grabbing one of the bottles.

He ripped the top off the scotch and started chugging the cold alcohol inside, only to choke because it tasted like blood. He ran to the sink and spat the liquid out and kept spitting until there was red mixed in the brownish liquid.

"Just one more night." The words rustled in his dry mouth as he dumped the rest of the bottle down the sink. Then he glanced up at the mirror that hung in front of him and saw nothing.

The same nothing everyone else saw.

With that thought he slammed his fist through the glass and into the metal behind. When he pulled his hand back there were only a few drops of blood despite the thick gashes the shards had made.

Spike collapsed to the floor, cradling his hand as the hunger inside him grew. "One more night."

Spike hated London.

He remembered the city back when it was the capital of the world, or at least acted like it. 'The sun never set' and all that nonsense. Not that he ever thought about it much, now or back then, but it was always a buzz in the back of his head.

Not all his cockiness was demon born.

This city rubbed his face in all of his hundred and twenty years. There was just enough of his London left, hidden between the McDonalds and Gaps, to show how much everything had changed. He'd crossed the world a dozen times over in the last century but he never came back to London, except for one time five years ago. Now he was here again for the same reason, to see the man standing in front of him.

Mal was half a head taller than Spike, but a good deal heavier. None of it was muscle. He ran one of the hundreds of old bookstores that dotted London like chickenpox. Though Spike doubted anyone had touched a book in here in the last decade, based on the layers of dust that covered the books on the shelves.

No, Mal dealt in information. Word was he put even the Watchers to shame. And unlike those do-gooders, Mal would deal with pretty much anyone who didn't want to destroy the world. The best part was he never asked more money, only more information.

"Of course I'm right. If you can get there in time he'll give you what you're looking for."

That phrase made the hairs on the back of Spike's neck stand straight out. "That's what you said when I was looking for a cure for Dru."

Mal's grin put Spike's best smirk to shame. "And I was right, wasn't I? You found exactly what you were looking for."

Spike looked away. Sure, he'd found a way to heal Drusilla from the injuries the mob in Prague had inflicted, but he'd lost her in the process. To Angelus. The bastard tortured her until she was batty, but she always went back for more. Never mind the fact that he'd been loving her for a century while Peaches brooded. Of course, if she hadn't gone back he wouldn't have made that first truce with Buffy, wouldn't have been dragged back to Sunnydale time after time, wouldn't have become a White Hat.

Wouldn't have met Tara.

"Wipe that grin off your face," Spike snapped as his hand tightened into a fist, ready to beat the smugness out of the bastard.

If Mal was the least bit frightened he hid it well. If anything his grin grew larger as he clapped his hands together with the glee of a six-year-old. "I gave you what you want. What have you got for me?"

Spike had thought long and hard on that. Trying to decide what he could tell without hurting anyone and finally decided. "The Slayer died last year and was resurrected by her best mate."

"I didn't know that Rosenberg was that powerful then. How?"

Spike frowned, bothered that he knew about Willow at all and wondered who had told him. But she was dead, so it wasn't like anything could happen to her now. "Rituals of Osiris."

Mal rubbed his chin. "I was wondering who outbid me for the Urn last year. I don't suppose…"

Spike shook his head. "Busted by chaos demons."

"Blast," Mal muttered in an almost perfect imitation of British outrage, but Spike saw through it. He knew an American when he saw one.

But that didn't really matter. Not during business. "So is it good enough?"

Mal nodded as he unrolled an old map over the even older table and jabbed his finger down. "It's good enough. You'll find your man here."

"I'll save the applause," Spike said as he looked down to study the map. It'd be a hell of a trip. Had to find a freighter that was going in the right direction and had a captain that wouldn't ask too many questions, tall order lately. And his destination had to be in the bloody middle of nowhere. "There's no one closer?"

"Well, I've heard rumors about a demon in Africa…"

Spike made a face. "Do I look that stupid to you?"

"Not to me, no."

Spike ignored the comment and studied the map again before he folded it up. "Australia, wonderful."

Every bit as wonderful as he'd hoped. Two weeks hiding out on a freighter that had cargo for every single city on the way that had as much as a fishing pier, then tracking down a bloke he'd done a favor for fifty years ago. Well, more let him live than did a favor. Didn't have to. Made Dru cross as hell for the next month.

It wasn't anything sentimental on his part. Fungus demons secreted the foulest smelling ooze when they die and he didn't want to spend the next month trying to scrub it off. Wasn't worth the effort, at least in his opinion, but Dru… Dru had so wanted to see how long the demon would burn…

He'd almost melted back then at the hurt look in her eyes, but it was just as well he didn't. Turned out the demon remembered him. Well, Spike helped a little by using a gas can for a visual aide. But after that the demon was only too glad to help. Turned out he knew a guy who knew a demon who was willing to rent this piece of garbage RV. Better than a car, though. He hadn't relished the idea of crossing a desert in a car. Needed room to stretch out if nothing else.

Besides, the trip did have some things going for it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen so many stars. They littered the sky, hundreds of glittering jewels stretching out as far as he could see. Glimmering…

"What's a word that rhymes with glimmering?"

Spike shook it off as he stared at the hole in the sky that he was driving towards, a thumb of a rock that stuck straight up out of the desert. He'd seen it yesterday before he stopped for the day and it hadn't gotten any closer even after driving for two hours. Then he blinked and now it took up half the sky. Though the devil of it was that he wasn't sure if it was even the right mountain.

Not until he saw the huge bonfire burning around the base, surrounded by a line of tents, and another line of pickup trucks and vans between him and the tents. All of which said that either this was the right mountain or there was a hell of a party going on.

Either way he doused the headlights before he drove any closer. No sense letting anyone know he was here until he knew what was happening, and stopped the RV among the last of the trucks.

"Here's hoping the natives are a friendly lot," Spike muttered as he opened the door and dropped to the ground, "and not partial to strangers walking in on their ceremonies."

Now that he was out of the RV he could hear the sound of drums pounding across the desert, joined by a chant that was so energetic that it might as well have been a song. Hell of a lot of people chanting, too, by the sounds of it. A scowl creased his forehead as he glanced at the makeshift parking lot again, his vampire senses more than making up for the moonless night.

What he saw only deepened his scowl. There were so many footprints in the sand that the rare place that didn't have one seemed off, and every single one led to the bonfire. He glanced at the trucks again and tried to guess how many people they could've carried. Dozens. Maybe a hundred if they didn't mind playing sardines. And there was a layer of fine sand over most of the vehicles, suggesting that they'd been there for a while.

"Quite a crowd. Wonder who they've got playing."

He didn't see a point in putting off the inevitable, not to mention he wanted to be done and gone before the sun came back up - didn't see the sense in playing as sitting duck if he didn't have to – so he walked towards the fire. Though it was with the same sense of anticipation he felt when Glory decided to play around with his innards.

Strike that. It was the same sick feeling that had been haunting him since Devonshire.

Still, he wasn't a complete idiot, despite what certain people named Harris might say. He hung close to the mountain, avoiding the tents and any surprises that might be hiding within, and took cover behind a boulder that was maybe a hundred feet from the party. Plenty close enough for him to see what he was blundering into.

There were even more people than he'd thought gathered around the fire, at least a hundred and twenty men, women and children. All of whom were dressed in primitive strips of clothing, loincloths and little else, that were in complete contrast with the tents and trucks that surrounded them.

Normally the sight of that many topless women would've had more impact – his blood might by stolen, but he wasn't a eunuch like certain vampires he could mention – but he was there on business. So was everyone else, by the looks of things.

Everyone was gathered around the bonfire, the women and children sat chanting in a circle while the men danced between them and the fire or pounded on the drums. All except one man who looked older than the mountain in the flickering light. He was sitting in the circle but was apart from it except for a woman who could've been his granddaughter who sat next to him. The man he was looking for, without a doubt.

"It's never the topless bird."

The drummers picked up the moment the words left his lips, changing to a savage beat as if they'd heard and were offended. The women's chanting sped up to match, the cries reaching an almost fevered pitch, while the dancers tried to keep up. They somehow kept looking graceful even as their movements became little more than desperate jerks of their arms and legs, though it was clear that they couldn't do it for long. Then, when it looked like two or three of the dancers were about to drop, the drums stopped with the finality of a heart attack. The dancers stamped their bare feet into the desert one last time as everyone gathered lifted their heads to the sky and let out a long howl.

Spike fought down the urge to join in with the rage-filled cry and waited to see what would follow, but nothing did. No one moved a muscle after the howl, not even to look down from the sky, frozen in either rapture or prayer. "Or maybe the whole lot's gone and nodded off. Either way I've got things to do," Spike grumbled as he stood up from his hiding spot and started walking towards the crowd.

He barely made it two steps when he felt something hard and sharp press into his back, aimed perfectly for his heart. "What do you want, vampire?" A man hissed in accented English.

Spike let out a disgusted sigh as the crowd turned to watch him. A trap, and he'd walked into it like a fledgling. " You know, until you came along and loused it up I'd managed to go an entire eight months without someone threatening to dust me."

"If you didn't want to be threatened you shouldn't have come. Leave now or die." The man pressed the spear forward to drive the point home.

Spike tensed as he felt the sharp point digging into his back but made no other movement. "Hey, now. I've come a long way and it's not right that you turn me back just because I'm not on speaking terms with the sun."

The man twisted the spear and drew blood. "I'm not concerned about you being a vampire."

Spike chuckled. "Now that's a first. Refreshing in a way, considering that's what most are hung up on."

"We are not most."

"Neither am I, to tell the truth," Spike said. With that he took a half-step forward, spinning the whole while, and kicked the spear out of the man's hands. He heard a surprised gasp from the crowd behind him, but no one came running to the rescue. Fine by him, they'd have their turn.

The one in front of him looked like enough trouble as it was, easily a foot higher and fifty pounds heavier, though not as old as Spike had first guessed. Take a good thirty seconds to kill, maybe forty since he seemed to be off his game today. At least it would back in the old days, when things were easy. "I'm not here to fight, I just came to see a man about a soul."

He would have been better of saying he was here to take the man's sister out for a quick sod, if the look of outrage was any indication. "You will not disturb Grandfather."

Spike fought down the urge to rip out the bastard's stubborn throat. Wasn't like he wanted anything all that unreasonable. "I don't want to disturb him either. Just a quick spell and I'll shove off."

"You will not disturb Grandfather."

Might as well be talking to a brick wall, or a Slayer.

"And what the bloody hell do you think you'll do about it if I do?" Spike snapped as all the frustration from his journey caught up with him and knew it was a mistake even before the man's hands burst into flame. "Don't suppose we can talk about this."

The only answer he got was a fist slamming into his stomach, doubling him over as the flames set fire to his shirt. It took him only a moment to recover from the blow, but much longer to pull out of his shirt. He could almost feel himself start to dust as he pulled he ripped away the burning fabric.

"That's the limit," Spike snarled as he tossed the shirt away, the demon in him singing as his face shifted. "That's the bloody limit."

It was almost a surprise when his head didn't explode with pain the first time he slammed his fist into the boy's face. The chip had leashed him for so long he'd almost forgotten how good a fight felt.

All the more shame for the boy.

Not that he didn't get some good blows in, he managed to break three of Spike's ribs, and the fact that every time he laid a hand on Spike it left a burn a good five inches wide didn't hurt either. But in the end the boy never had a chance.

"Not against me," Spike snarled as he kicked the man's broken body through the circle of the man's mates, all of who scattered like birds as Spike followed his prey. All except for the old man the woman who sat next to him, they stayed where they were sitting and watched.

In the distance he saw another woman, a girl really, in the crowd. She was screaming at the top of her lungs as she tried to pull away from the two men who were holding her back. Spike waved at the woman before slamming his fist down against the man's bloody jaw again. "Not against Spike. Not against William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers."

"Maybe next time," Spike began before he kicked the man hard in the stomach and felt ribs give away through the toe of his boot, "Maybe next time you'll let a fellow talk before you start something."

The man reached out to grab one of the burning timbers from the fire, only to let out a shrill cry of pain when Spike stepped down on his hand and ground it into the sand.

"Tsk, tsk. Here I thought the lesson was done." With that Spike knelt down and patted the man on the back, and grinned when that simple gesture made the man cough up blood. "Looks right nasty, too. Maybe I should just kill you. Put you out of your misery. Or maybe…" he said and looked at the girl, who was still screaming but was now being held back by two men. "Maybe I'll kill your mates while you watch. Starting with her."

"Monster," the man said, the words gurgling in his throat, and swung one last time.

Spike swatted the arm away. "Or maybe not." With that he leaned over and buried his teeth into the man's neck.

The blood exploded into his mouth with all the force of a firehouse, the taste of the hot coppery liquid brought tears to his eyes. It'd been so long since he'd had fresh that he closed his eyes to revel in the taste.

The man let out a few soft gurgles that sounded like music as the blood slowed with every heartbeat until there was almost nothing left. Spike opened his eyes, wanting to watch his first victim in three years die.

Only to see Tara staring up at him.

"No!" Spike shouted and pushed away from the almost dead man. Then his stomach heaved and retched up the blood he'd just feasted on, leaving a scarlet stain in the beige sand. As soon as the last drop was out he wrapped his arms around his legs and started rocking back and forth. The demon in him howled, furious at being denied its meal, and Spike tried to drown it out by chanting, "Nonononononono."

He started like an animal when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. The hand was weathered with deep calluses, and far stronger than it should have been considering how small it felt. Spike looked up, hoping that it was someone who'd finally put him out of his misery, only to see the woman who had stayed in the circle to watch.

The woman waited until Spike had regained some sense of self before she said one word, "Come," and turned to the mountain.

"What?"

The woman turned back and studied him with old eyes. "You've traveled far. Be a shame to stop now."

"But…" Spike forced himself up on shaky legs as he looked for the man he'd so brutally attacked. He finally saw him being carried off by a half dozen of the others, including the girl he'd threatened. The girl's eyes burnt with rage, all aimed at the woman Spike was standing next to, much to Spike's surprise. "What about…"

The woman turned in time to watch the nearly dead warrior be carried into one of the tents. "Coen will live," she declared without assurance, though she was quick to turn away from the girl.

Spike rubbed at his chin, and shuddered when his hand came away red. "I didn't want this. I didn't want this to happen."

The woman nodded. "We know. Now. We had to be sure though, which was why Coen volunteered to face you."

"Wait – you knew?"

"You are not the first of your kind to make this journey, and you will not be the last."

Spike had known that Angel wasn't the first vampire to try to be human – hell, he'd staked a few of them himself. Better dust than housebroken. At least that's what he thought until…

"You think you know what you are? You haven't even begun," with that the woman turned and started towards the mountain again, and Spike noticed for the first time that she walked with a limp. "Past time you started."

Spike turned and to look at the old man, the one he'd thought he'd come here to meet, but he was still sitting and staring blankly out into the distance. "What about him… No offense but…"

"Grandfather would have taken you before, if you'd passed the tests, but he rarely leaves the Dreamtime now. I will guide you, if I can," she answered without turning or taking offense. If anything, she sounded sad.

Spike followed her, so turned around by the events of the last ten minutes he didn't make a lewd comment about the fact he was following a half-naked woman up a mountain. "So, who are you?"

"You may call me Kyeema."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Why do you want your soul back?" Kyeema asked as she drew another line across Spike's cheek, and then dipped her fingers back into the small bowl she carried in her left hand.

"Why do you think?" Spike snapped, more to take his mind off the fact that he'd become a living canvas than anything else. It didn't help much, the blue-black paint she used itched and stunk of herbs too much for that, but at least it kept him from scratching at the goop. He knew enough about rituals to know that if he so much as smudged her artwork she'd more than likely have to start all over, and he didn't think he could sit still for that long again.

Though, for one of the few times in his unlife, he was glad he didn't have a reflection. Probably looked ghastly, like the garbage called modern art. Never could see how a can of soup became a masterpiece.

No sense of taste at all in this century.

"To win the love of a woman?" Kyeema asked with a distant shrug, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice when she added, "Or a man?"

Spike felt more than heard the growl start in the back of his throat, and he quickly swallowed it back down. "No. I'm not doing this for anyone else."

Kyeema stopped, her finger hanging just beyond his nose. "Are you sure…?"

Tara appeared in his mind, followed by the image of her holding hands with the brunette. "Sure enough."

Kyeema nodded and slashed at his nose with her finger, leaving one last line. She looked him over to check on her handiwork, then nodded and closed the lid of the jar. She settled across the fire from Spike. "Then why?"

Spike watched her through the dancing flames. She'd had him build the fire first thing, and while it wasn't as impressive as the bonfire down below it was still good sized. He didn't need it, but a frozen witch wouldn't help anyone. At least he hoped she was a witch, 'cause he hadn't seen any sign of it so far. Not counting the finger-painting.

"Why don't you tell me?"

He could almost hear her sigh, even over the wind and the popping of the fire. "It's not my quest, William."

He felt every muscle in his body tense, ready to launch himself to his feet, but he was careful not to make any sign. He'd never said his name, been careful not to. Never could tell when he'd run into someone with a grudge. "Do tell how you know my name."

"Magic." With that she reached into the pouch around her waist, pulled some small knickknack out and tossed it at him. The toss was sloppy and would've gone flying over anyone else's head, but Spike managed to move fast enough to catch whatever it was out of the air. The object felt small in his hand, no bigger than a wallet, and smooth. He opened his hand and saw the purple and white cell phone. "Mal told me."

He tossed the phone back; careful to make sure it landed in her lap. "Have to say, this takes some of the wonder out of it."

"We aren't savages, William. Despite what you and yours think."

"Never thought that. And as far as mine are concerned, you lot aren't savages so much as finger food."

"Food with a kick, I hope."

"Wouldn't be as much fun if you weren't."

Kyeema grinned and bowed her head to the compliment. "You still haven't told me why you want your soul."

Spike grimaced and sat back on the balls of his feet. "Thought it would be pretty self-evident."

"Because you're a vampire?"

"Right in one. 'Less I misread my lack of pulse."

"That still doesn't explain why you want your soul."

"You need me to spell it out?" Spike asked as he skewered the woman sitting across from him with a look of incredulity. "I don't want to be a monster anymore. I want to be a man."

"You aren't?" Kyeema asked with badly feigned surprise. She looked him over, studied him in a way that would've been flattering if she wasn't fighting back a smirk. "Then you're a very good imitation. A touch too pale for my tastes, though."

"You know what I meant."

Kyeema nodded. Good thing, too. He was a half second from going down the mountain and talking to the man she'd replaced. Fellow might not be all there, but it'd have to be easier than talking to this woman.

"Yes. I just don't know why you think you need a soul."

"Haven't you been paying attention? I-am-a-vampire."

Kyeema reached down and stoked the fire with a stay stick. "So?"

Spike jumped to his feet. "What do you mean, 'so'? Are you a complete idiot?"

"I'm the idiot?" Kyeema glanced up, but didn't stop working on the fire. "At least I know what a vampire is."

"I know what I am," Spike all but spat out. "A demon in sheep's clothing."

The muscles in Kyeema's shoulders tightened. "No, you're not. At least not completely. You really don't know, do you?"

"'Course I do," Spike snapped, finally losing what little patience he had. 'Course what did he expect, she was a woman. And a witch to top it off. Probably couldn't find a more stubborn mix if he tried. "I'm a demon who has the memories of my old self. Nothing more."

"So the Watchers say."

Sure, he knew the Watchers were a bunch of prissy nancy boys – well, except for Rupert, not that he'd tell the man that – who'd lie as soon as tell the time of day, but everyone; other vampires, demons, the magic types, said the same thing: Vampires were demons in the bodies of dead people. End of story.

And what did this girl know anyway? Sitting half naked on a mountain when it was almost freezing out and babbling on with a vampire weren't exactly signs of being right in the head.

Signs he knew all too well after a century with Dru.

Just his luck to get here right after the man who knew what he was talking about lost his marbles. Probably would've been fine if he'd come a year earlier. Instead he got this half-wit…

"Fine. If I'm not a demon, what am I?"

"Look for yourself." With that Kyeema tossed a last handful of something into the fire. The flames turned a dark blue and shot up an extra ten feet before settling back to a blaze that reached his chest.

The heat that poured off far outstripped the size of the flames, hot enough to force Spike back a half step. He would've retreated further if he hadn't seen Kyeema and realized she hadn't reacted at all to the inferno that licked at her face.

Then he saw something moving in the flames between them, a green shape that didn't belong. The fleeting glance was enough to draw him closer, despite the heat. The closer he got, the clearer the picture became until it was like looking through a pane of glass. Inside he saw a demon with sickly green skin. It was shaped like a man, but was clearly a good bit bigger and stronger with dark green skin. As he watched the demon launched itself at a group of humans, scattering them. All except one unlucky woman who it knocked down and pinned to the ground…

"It lives for the hunt," Kyeema explained, and somehow Spike knew she was watching him with the same intensity he was watching the demon, "the penetrating wound, the blood rush."

The woman let out one last scream as the demon bit into her neck, ripped into it until her blood flowed like wine.

"It is death, incarnate."

The demon looked up and howled its victory into the sky, and for the first time Spike saw it's face, the familiar but much more pronounced bony ridges that lined its brow and the yellow eyes. He shook his head, denying the truth despite having it thrown in his face. Then he finally noticed the lattice of black that lined its torso, exactly matching the pattern Kyeema had painted on him.

"It's me," Spike said, his throat dry even as the demon feasted.

"No. It's an animal. Mindless."

"Until it took mine. William's."

"You still don't understand," Kyeema said, disgust in her voice as she rose to her feet. "It's a part of you, this thing beneath, but it isn't you.

"You are now, and have always been, William."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"What?" Tara asked without the expected stutter as a half dozen emotions played across her face, all flying past in a jumble. She sat up and looked him over with wide eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. "Are you – is she sure?"

Spike ran his hand down her arm and she didn't even flinch, which proved she'd taken the news far better than he had. 'Course she didn't understand. Not really. Not yet.

He didn't have any illusions about what would happen when she did.

So he ignored her question and tried to drink in as much of the moment as he could, focusing on the amazing creature sitting next to him, covered only by his coat. He never expected any of this to happen.

This had all started as a fling last year, a way to forget, and a way to get some pleasure from the moment. He'd been hurting from Buffy's rejection, after all she'd trusted him enough to tell him about her time in heaven, and that kiss after the sing along… He'd have to live a thousand years before he forgot how that felt. Almost enough to send his heart pitter-patter. They'd been on the verge of something, he'd been sure of it…

Then two days later it, whatever it was, was over.

She came to his crypt, said it was a mistake. At least she didn't tell him they'd always be friends, left him with that much pride. Spent a week trying to figure out what he did wrong – he guessed it had something to do with Anya after the near fight he'd seen between the two at the Bronze, but didn't have a clue as to how much for another month - was he too soft, too hard? Or was she right and they were a disaster waiting to happen?

It was enough for him to pick a fight with her, which was when learned that he could hit her without anyone yanking on his leash. He could almost taste the glee he felt when he told her it proved she came back wrong. It was a lie, of course, and he knew it. She might've been hurting worse then even he could ever imagine, but she was still Buffy.

It was the agony splashed across her face, and the fact that he'd put it there, which convinced him. She was right. They didn't belong, would only bring each other pain. And not the pleasant kind that he'd shared with Dru.

He was busy drowning his sorrows at the Bronze – came this close to being Willy's, except the Bronze had better Buffalo wings – when he ran into Tara. Literarily. Nearly gave them both a beer bath. Started chatting with her for the first time in all the time he'd known her.

He tried to be the Big Bad with her, but each and every time she managed to knock his legs out from under him, leaving him a stammering mess while she hide her smile behind her hand.

Most fun he'd had in weeks, and he knew it was for her, too. So they made a habit of it.

Ended up telling her things he hadn't told anyone, not even Drusilla. Even let her read some of his less horrendous poetry, pages he'd saved ever since he'd been turned. She read them all and didn't laugh. Didn't say they were great – or even good – but she didn't laugh.

That's when he knew it was love.

A fact that made his stomach tighten. He'd been love's bitch often enough to know it would end badly. Waited for it to happen for months, but it never did. Not until the night Willow went schizo, and Tara had to push herself up to Red's level. He saw the writing on the wall that very night, the first time Tara flinched away from his touch, saw the fear she had of herself.

He tried everything he knew, but they still imploded. Kept trying even after that, only to make things worse.

Now this; he never expected to have her throw himself at him, never expected them to make love, never expected to be lying so close to her that he could smell her shampoo and feel the heat pouring off her body.

Hoped, maybe. Dreamed it enough, but expected it? He might be love's bitch, but he wasn't a complete git. She'd made her feelings clear months ago. Most he hoped for was a few awkward conversations, not this. She was a vision; leaning up on one elbow, nude from the waist up with only his jacket to cover the rest of her, hair mussed and still flushed from their romp.

A last meal for the condemned.

"Always wondered why newbies were such easy pickings," Spike mused. "All grr, not a stitch of smarts. Turns out those came later, when the human bit wakes up. Though sometimes it never does – 'course most of those poor sods had the same life expectancy as the average boy band…"

"You mean," Tara swallowed hard as her face darkened as she rubbed her hands together, almost like she was trying to scrub them clean. "W… we've been killing people all this time?"

"No!" He snapped, his voice firm and without a hint of regret. "We've been dusting monsters."

"But they're people…"

"They're monsters. They think that because they're strong, fast and forever young they're the chosen and that makes everybody else Happy Meals on legs. They aren't, they're just parasites and too stupid to know it."

"But you don't…"

Spike snorted, the last, faded remnant of his old arrogance. "I've been the bloody poster child for vampires. You have any idea what I've done, the people I killed. Me, William, the bloody awful poet and even worse man, not the demon I'm timesharing with."

Tara glanced away. "I know what you were."

"You don't know a damned thing," Spike said as he twisted away from her. He couldn't take being that close, not anymore. He slid off the couch and grabbed his pants. "I've hunted whole families, sometimes killing them outright, sometimes turning the parents and leaving the children as a wakeup snack. And the things I've done to girls Dawn's age… You don't know a damned thing."

"That's not… It was… You didn't have a soul," Tara said, her voice like her argument. Weak.

"A soul doesn't matter!" His voice was low; almost a growl, but it filled the room. "Don't you read the papers? The murderers, the rapists, they all have souls. Souls just makes being good easier, it isn't a guarantee. It can be ignored."

"And the demon in you, it doesn't have any responsibility for what you did?"

Spike felt his vampire face slip out, and felt more than heard it's muted growl of happiness at being freed. "It has the hunger. Makes being evil easier. But in the end it's still up to me. It's my hands that are dripping red, not the demon's."

Tara stood up, still clutching at his jacket. "Then you're responsible for all the good things you've done."

He turned away. "I haven't done anything good."

"You fought Glory…"

"After selling the lot of you out to Adam. And…" Spike stopped, if he'd been alive he would've taken a deep breath. Of course, if he were alive they wouldn't be having this conversation. "I almost killed you."

Tara didn't respond, too stunned to even gasp. At least that's what he figured, hoped. If she wasn't stunned, she might be putting together some mojo to dust him where he stood. If he made a half turn he'd know for sure, one way or the other. But he couldn't. Didn't want to see the pain and disbelief that he knew would be in her eyes. So he pressed on.

"When you left for England I followed you. Wanted to make sure you were safe." He bit back a laugh. "Wanted to be the White Knight. Instead I almost ripped your throat out, almost made you the same as me."

"I thought… I knew I'd seen…" Tara said, at last finding her voice. "Why? Why did you follow me?"

Spike knew a dodge when he heard one, but he answered her question anyway. It'll all end up in the same place anyway. "Because I didn't trust the Coven, I don't trust anyone with that much power." How could he? Willow's rampage was his most recent run in with someone power crazed, she wasn't even the worse.

"Of course not. How could you?"

Spike winced at the raw pain in Tara's voice and turned almost without meaning to. She'd pulled on her blouse when he wasn't looking, the yellow garment reached down to her hips. Her fingers were frozen on the button of her blouse; her head bent forward and her face hidden behind her flaxen hair. He reached over to push the hair out of the way, but she flinched at his touch. "Didn't mean you, luv. I…"

"Don't," Tara said, cutting him off. "Just… don't."

Spike didn't know how to climb out the hole he'd dug himself, so he didn't try. "I didn't trust them, luv. I know Rupes vouched for them, and Rebecca seemed like a nice bird, but I didn't. I've known too many monsters with pleasant faces."

Tara wiped at her eyes before she finally met his eyes again while her hands went back to the buttons of her blouse. "And?"

"I was wrong," Spike admitted with a shrug. "If they were any more goody-goods I would've had to save you from a coma."

"Then why didn't you come up and tell me?" Tara asked as she shook the hair out of her eyes with an angry jerk of her head. "I thought I was going crazy, seeing you everywhere."

"Don't you think I wanted to?" Spike shouted and looked for something to throw, but there was nothing in reach. "Do you think it was easy for me? Following you around every day and never being able to… But you made it clear you didn't want me."

"When?" Tara asked, not giving an inch. Not even when he rushed towards her and grabbed her arms. She pulled herself free and stood nose to nose with him until he finally flinched away. "When I left? I begged you to come with me…"

"Not then," Spike snapped. "Later, in that club in London. I'd followed you; saw you with that other bird from the Coven. Brunette, touch older than you. The two of you were all dolled up, laughing and holding hands." He shook his head and wished he could shake the image out. The two of them, both dressed to the nine's, laughing and holding hands. For a split second after he'd spotted them together he'd wanted to kill them both, to rip out their throats and watch as their lives drained out while he laughed. That split second was enough to send him running across the world. "I wasn't a White Knight, wasn't a knight at all. Only thing I ever was is the Court Jester."

"You mean, Allyssa?" Tara asked, lost. "I'd had a rough day and Allyssa took me for a night out. I didn't… How could you even think that…?"

"You're a lesbian," Spike said with a snort. "'Least you were the first three years I knew you. Figured I was just a fluke."

"I can't believe..." Tara whispered in near agony as she studied his face for even the smallest sign that he was lying but not finding any. "Do you really think I spent nine months with you just to find out what being with a boy was like?"

"What else am I supposed to think? That I was a rebound for Red"

"Like I was a rebound for Buffy," Tara muttered under her breath, even though she had to know he could hear every word. Her eyes flashed with a betrayed fury that'd be worrisome on anyone, much less a witch. Then, as abruptly as it appeared, the anger vanished, replaced by exhaustion as she collapsed to the couch. "I'm me, Spike, not a label. I'll love who I want to. And as to Willow…

"Before Willow I had no one. No friends, certainly no one special. Dad made sure of that. All I had was magic, or at least the few tricks my mother had taught me before she… I joined the Wicca group hoping to find someone like me, but there wasn't. They didn't even want me there.

"Then I saw Willow, saw her stand up to everyone else… She was everything I ever wanted to be, and she noticed me," Tara smiled softly at the memory. "She let me hang out with her, work on spells with her. For the first time in my life someone needed me for something besides laundry. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

"A smidge," Spike allowed, his first meeting with Dru flashing through his mind. Then he pushed the memory away. "But if your saying you didn't love her, that you were just using her, you're a better liar than I ever imagined."

"Of course I loved her. She was everything to me…" Tara said, sounding as convinced of that as he was that they'd be fighting for their lives again soon. Then her hand went to her temple as whatever happiness the memories had brought gave way, "Until she violated me. Made me forget about some stupid fight because she didn't want to deal, didn't want to be questioned.

"Even at your worse, Spike, all you could do is kill me."

"A rousing endorsement. Could turn you."

"Into the skanky ho model?" Tara asked with a sly grin. "Don't think so. In case you haven't noticed, I don't have the body for leather pants."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Never heard me complain."

Tara smiled and bowed her head at him. "Flatterer."

"Not me, pet. I'm bad to the bone."

"Says the vampire with a soul."

"You've got the wrong vampire." Spike snorted and shook his head. "That's still Peaches job description."

"You mean…"

"She couldn't do it. Said the magic was long gone."

"God, Spike…"

"Eh. I planned it. Bound to go wrong somewhere."

"But you went all that way for nothing."

"Didn't say that. She told me the truth, and that's something. Gave me some advice on controlling the demon. And there was one other thing…" He walked to the far wall of the training room and the boarded up window there. It'd been covered up years ago as one of the grudging signs of acceptance of his presence. He grabbed one side of the plywood and dug his fingers under the dusty plywood.

"Spike, what are you…"

He yanked the board off the window and stood still as the morning sunlight rushed in and enveloped him.

Enveloped but didn't burn.

Tara stood there, her mouth hanging open as she waited for him to burst into the flames that never came. "What?"

"It was the one thing she could do," Spike said as he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the light with him. "Made it so I could go out in daylight. Finally find out if I freckle."

Tara's face lit up, and not just because of the sunlight that filled the room. "Th-that's wonderful!"

Spike help up a hand. "Doesn't change anything else though. I'm still a vampire. Still won't age…"

Tara silenced him with a kiss. When the broke apart she said, "We'll worry about that tomorrow… Now… now I want to take a walk in the park."

"Sounds fine to me, love." Then he looked down at their stare of barely clothed. "Though if we go out like this, we'll get arrested."

Tara looked down as it sank in that she only had on Spike's jacket and her blouse, which she didn't even have buttoned on right, while Spike was only wearing his pants. She blushed a bright red, and then started giggling.

Spike watched her, a haunted smile on his own lips, as he remembered the price of his gift. It was a vision of the future, of a girl that looked all too much like Dawn and a boy whose eyes glowed with power fighting for their lives against monks with no eyes and lizard demons while the Hellmouth burst open around them.

Fighting in the daylight.

"A worry for tomorrow," he murmured. He had better things to think about today.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The thump the book made when Giles closed it was by far the most valuable thing he'd gotten out of the volume. In all honesty, he would have been better off spending the last fifteen minutes studying the TV listings than that insipid pap.

Not that anyone else was having any better luck.

Anya was sitting on a stool next to him, her book spread out across the glass counter, and flipping through the pages with the same enthusiasm she had for charity donation forms. At least she was when she wasn't too busy fiddling with a brown paper bag that must contain her lunch. It was all he could do not to reach over and yank the bag out of her hands so he wouldn't have to listen to the paper crinkle any more, but he refrained. After all, if she was this hungry now she couldn't last that much longer. No sense raising a fuss, not this close to the holidays.

Though Dawn didn't seem to be researching any harder, at least she was being quiet. She was sitting at the research table and using another chair as a footstool with a book in her lap, not that Giles could remember seeing her flipping a page in the last ten minutes. Odd how the girl had lost all interest in researching the moment they decided she was old enough to help. He should've thought of it years ago, it would've saved them a lot of grief.

Faith was the only one who'd found any use for the books; she was using hers as a pillow. She was sitting across the table from Dawn, her legs drawn up under her with her arms wrapped around her head.

Giles felt a pang of guilt and knew he should've made the girl stay home today. Having the Mayor's last leash torn from her mind must've been draining, even with her Slayer enhancements, but she'd insisted. Had sworn that caffeine and training was all she'd needed. Maybe it would've been if she could have actually trained… But Tara and Spike had commandeered the room a half hour ago and had not shown any sign of leaving.

He turned and shoved his book back into place on the bookshelf before grabbing another. This was all Spike's fault. If he hadn't… "Are you sure Spike was in the daylight?"

Dawn nodded and looked over at him, more to stretch her neck than anything else. "Yup, I heard the bell over the door ring and when I turned there he was, not a wisp of smoke or blanket to be seen."

"Did you notice him wearing any new costume jewelry?" Anya asked, sounding bored down to her heels.

The teenager closed her eyes in thought before shaking her head. "Nope. No rings, no necklace, not even a watch. Though his hair did through me off. Thought he was a mark at first. Do you think he'll want his coat back?" She hugged the black leather duster to her as she asked.

"I'm not… You thought he was a what?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "A customer."

"And who taught you…" Giles caught himself midquestion. There wasn't any need to ask, after all the two prime candidates were in the store with him. It didn't matter anyway.

The only thing that mattered right now was figuring out precisely how Spike managed to walk in the daylight. Maybe he should call Buffy, another pair of eyes couldn't hurt. Besides, she had to be up by now…

No, he knew better then to ask. Not that he doubted Buffy would come; there simply wasn't any point. And if Faith was wasted by last night, he could only imagine how Buffy felt. He never should've let her help in the spell, not in her condition.

But there was no other way. Tara had been more right that she'd known, the spell that she'd used to join Buffy's and Faith's minds normally would only have worked if the two who had been closely related. Sibling close. Whatever Buffy had left of the Slayer essence had been enough to bridge the gap, but just.

Besides which, he knew that Anya would skin him alive if he was wrong and Buffy was still asleep, and that Xander would take care of whatever was left. He might be a Watcher, but that didn't mean he was a fool.

Not that having another pair of eyes would have helped. The answer wasn't in any of his books, he was sure of that. Someone would've noticed a spell that so changed one of the basic tenets of vampirism. And if that someone had worked for the Council then every copy of that book would've been hunted down and destroyed.

No, the answer wasn't in any of his books – it was in the burned blond vampire who was less then fifty feet and a locked door away.

A door that had been mocking him for the last hour.

"Stop that!" Anya shouted as she slammed her book shut and turned to glare at Giles. "I might as well be trapped back here with a barnyard animal!"

Giles stared at the crazed ex-demon, at a loss as to what he had done. "Stop what?"

"That clucking sound," Faith answered, the first sign of life out of the Slayer in nearly half an hour and another shock for Giles. He'd been sure that she'd been sound asleep. "I'm telling you, Giles, you're driving me to violence here if you don't stop."

"I do not cluck."

"You so do," Dawn countered as she spun around in her seat so she could glare at Giles properly. "You do it every time you look at the door, and I doubt that annoying Spike will get him out here any quicker."

Anya slid off her stool to put her book away, giving it an extra hard shove for emphasis. "Unless he thinks he has to kill you to get you to stop."

"I do not cluck," Giles repeated with an edge as his eyes slipped back to the door.

Faith raised her arms over her head and leaned back in her chair in an almost cat-like stretch. "Don't even think it."

Giles bit down on his tongue to stop himself, but didn't take his eyes off the door. "It's been almost an hour now. What on Earth could they be doing in there? Oh, for a different choice of words," he added with a wince, but it was already too late to pull the words back. All he could do was steel himself for what was sure to follow, though he was glad of one thing.

At least Buffy and Xander weren't here.

Dawn was the only one who laughed; a wet, sputtering giggle that was so much worse than it would've been if she hadn't tried to hold back, while Faith and Anya exchanged knowing looks.

"To be fair," Faith began, "he WAS a librarian."

"Yes," Anya said as she patted Giles on the shoulder before he shrugged her hand off. "Still sad though, he could have at least studied the engravings."

"Someone should tell him about the birds and the bees," Dawn added the last dig.

"I didn't mean… Of course I know… "Giles stuttered, his face red, as he reached up to polish the glasses that he wasn't wearing, hadn't worn in months as a matter of fact. Though they were still tucked into his coat pocket, just in case. Since it would have been awkward to polish his contact lenses, he let his hand drop.

"I think we've warped his fragile little mind," Dawn said to Faith.

Faith nodded and let out a little sad sound. "Too bad, it was nice having someone who said he was a Watcher that wasn't trying to peek in my bedroom window."

"Watching can be fun," Anya allowed, her eyes glazing over in what looked to be a very pleasant memory. "But doing is much more fun."

"Children," Giles muttered, twisting the word into the vilest of curses. "The whole lot of you. Dawn said Spike walked in the daylight, aren't any of you curious as to how?"

"No."

"Not really."

"Nah."

Giles sighed and muttered, "Children," again as he pulled out another book, though it was more of a show than an attempt to find anything. He knew there was nothing to find, and by all appearances he wasn't the only one.

Now that they were done taking their pound of flesh, Dawn and Faith had shoved their books away and were leaned towards each other and talking about something or other in a tone that was too low for him to hear. Though he did hear 'the Bronze' mentioned more than once, so he seriously doubted it had anything to do with research.

Not that he minded, especially when Faith burst out laughing from something Dawn had said. He couldn't remember Faith laughing like that when she'd first arrived in Sunnydale. Even Dawn seemed happier; the confused, bitter shoplifter he'd heard about was only a distant memory.

He would never have thought that the two would end up friends. When they'd first met, Faith barely said two words to… Giles shook his head, it was getting easier to separate the Monk-created memories, but every now and then one snuck up on him.

Maybe it wasn't so odd, after all the two had more in common than even they'd admitted to. Like living in Buffy's shadow, which was spread wide and far even before her present condition, and under which the two had chaffed, or the fact that they'd both lost their parents, or had been in more than a little trouble with their schools. Though if Dawn tried to follow Faith's example on that one – namely by dropping out – there would be hell to pay.

He felt Anya's hand on his shoulder again and there was real concern in her voice. "We were just having a bit of fun, Giles. You don't have to get all mopey."

"I'm well aware," Giles said with a wry grin. "You forget that I've had to deal with far worse in the past."

Anya nodded with a look of relief. Perhaps the girl could learn tact, after all. Then she ruined it all by saying, "I need to pee, don't let any more customers get away."

"I'll make every attempt," Giles promised, his voice dry.

Which flew right over Anya's head. "Well, good." With that she walked around the counter and headed for the bathroom in the back, for some odd reason scooping up her lunch on the way.

Giles didn't ask, better not to know. Indeed, it would be for the best if he were elsewhere when she returned. He kept his eyes on the book in front of him, his gaze slipping over the handwritten script without reading a word, until he was sure that the ex-demon was gone. Then he was on his feet and all but bolted for the iron staircase in the rear of the store.

Who knows, he might even find something useful.

He scanned the bookcases and grabbed a random Watcher's journal to flip through it. They were usually dry and as dull as he'd often been accused of being, but every now and then he'd find one had a certain flair. He'd gone through three-quarters of the manuscript when the phone started ringing. He started to rise, ready to rush down and answer the damned device, when he stopped. He didn't have to move, not when he had to 'assistants' just waiting for something to do. "Could one of you please get that?"

If he had any doubts as to who would do it, Dawn's loud sigh put them to rest. Giles watched as the girl dash across the sales floor and lean over the counter to get the phone while Faith kicked her legs up onto the table and leaned back, basking in her victory.

"Magic Box, the place for all your… Oh, hey Xand. Home for lunch alr…" The bored look vanished from her face like it had never been. "No, I don't know where… Now? Are you sure? We'll meet you at the hospital." With that Dawn dropped the phone down. "Giles, where's Anya?!"

"In the bathroom, why?"

"Buffy's going to have the baby! Xander wants us to meet them at the hospital!"

Faith sat up, her feet hitting the ground with a thump. "Is he sure?"

Dawn nodded. "He says the pains are ten minutes apart and that Buffy said that if he ever touched her again she'll kill him. Though she was probably practicing."

"Sounds like he's sure to me," Faith said.

Giles rushed down the steps with a grin, British reserve forgotten. "Faith, get Tara and Spike, I have a feeling that they'll want to come with us. Dawn, help me close up the shop."

The two girls nodded and dashed off while Giles ducked behind the counter and reached into his coat pocket for the key to the cash register, only to freeze when he felt the ever-present eyeglasses. Buffy had asked him once why he kept them around now that he was wearing contacts and he'd given some excuse about how Watchers were like Boy Scouts, always prepared.

In his defense, it wasn't like he could tell her the truth. That the lenses were spelled. He had a good idea who, but wasn't positive. That was why he'd spent so much time trying to make a tracer spell with Tara, so he could know for sure.

But the spell hadn't worked. If he was right, she'd want to know, want to be here. If he was wrong, then he could be placing them all in danger…

"Dawnie!" Anya shouted as she came running in from the back and all but tackled the younger girl. Giles thought he saw a small white stick in the ex-demon's hand, but she had been moving too fast for him to be sure. "It's finally…"

"Buffy's gone into labor!" Dawn cut her off and tried to hug the life out of her sister-in-law.

"What?" Anya asked, her smile drooping a touch before bouncing right back, though now with worry in her eyes as she started to ask questions in a breathless rush. "Is she all right? Do we have to pick her up? Did you call Xander?"

"Xander's with her," Dawn answered and tried to sound something less than ecstatic. "We have to meet them at the hospital. Breath."

"To hell with that. We have to get moving, people! Chop, chop!" Anya said in a voice that would've made a drill-sergeant jealous. She had a most commanding presence until she looked at Dawn again and the two let out a shared shriek of joy and started dancing around.

It was that display that convinced Giles to take the chance. He slipped his glasses on with his left hand while he scribbled a note with the other. Five short words.

Buffy's in labor. Hurry home.

10 hours later.

Giles glanced down at the note for what seemed like the eight hundredth time. Maybe he was wrong, maybe no one was watching and he'd hallucinated the whole thing, or maybe he'd scared off whoever was watching with the 'tear away the veil' spell.

Maybe he should've left out the word hurry.

He squirmed in the pink and blue plastic upholstered chair that managed to pinch no matter how he sat. The waiting room in the nursery was by far the most cheerful one in the hospital, but if he had to stare at the pink and blue walls much longer HE'D open the bloody Hellmouth.

And he'd have plenty of help, judging by the air of the people around him. Dawn and Faith had taken one of the two couches; Faith with her feet propped up on the fake wood table next to year-old magazines while Dawn was sprawled out across the rest, with Faith's thigh as a pillow and the armrest as a footstool, while Tara and Spike had taken the other. They must've dealt with whatever had been bothering them, because the two had been inseparable since Faith had interrupted their 'reunion.'

Though Spike's new tolerance for sunlight had made the caravan over that much simpler.

No one was speaking because they'd run out of things to say hours ago. Giles had even run out of questions for Spike. The vampire had told what little he knew, which took most of a minute, and shrugged to the rest of the questions. Apparently he hadn't been paying that much attention at the time. Not history making enough for his tastes.

Needless to say, things became a bit tense after that.

The only blessing was that there was no one else waiting with them. If they'd had to deal with strangers on top of the boredom…

"What's taking so long?" Dawn grumbled, finally putting to words what everyone else was thinking.

"You're asking me?" Faith muttered. "Not even prison was this dull."

"These things take time," Tara said, trying to be supportive even though she was starting to wilt, too.

"Doesn't mean we have to be bored to death, luv," Spike said and patted Tara's knee. "Who's up for a game of poker?"

Even Giles perked up at that. "Oh, God, yes. I'll deal the first hand," he said and held his hand out to get the deck from Spike.

The smirk on Spike's face froze. "They've gotta have a pack around here somewhere."

"You've got to be shitting us," Faith snapped in what was the most – descriptive – of the protests, but far from the only one. Even Tara was glaring.

"Oh, lay off," Spike snapped as he slumped into the couch. "Just got back into the sodding country, wasn't like I stopped in Vegas along the way."

The silence that followed was even more painful and drawn out, though hating Spike did bring a certain distraction.

Then it was Dawn's turn for an idea. "Maybe Faith and I should patrol. Check the morgue. Never know when a bloodsuckers gonna pop up."

It took Faith a moment to catch up, but when she did she nodded so vigorously that Giles started to worry about her neck. "Yeah, sacred calling and all that."

"You could probably use some back up," Tara said as she stood.

"Whole lot of backup," Spike added. "We're a dangerous lot, after all."

Giles came within a hairsbreadth of agreeing when Xander and Anya came bursting through the pink doors that lead to the delivery room. The two were hand in hand and both grinning, though Anya's complexion came close to matching the color of their green surgical gowns.

Giles stood up. "Well?"

Xander's grin widened, if that was even possible. "You should see her. She's so tiny."

"Not that tiny," Anya murmured as she stared at nothing in particular, though judging by the way Xander winced and pulled his hand free she had tightened her grip a great deal.

"We already know about B," Faith cut in, "What about the rug rat?"

"A healthy seven pound one ounce," Xander answered, not even noticing the joke. "And she has my eyes."

That simple statement seemed to pull Anya out of whatever world she'd been in. "She should only be so lucky," she said as she leaned over to kiss Xander on the cheek.

"Dr. Frable says Buffy and Jessie can have visitors as long as it's one at a time," Xander said. "Not counting us, of course. So…"

"… would you like to meet your niece, Dawnie?" Anya finished.

"You kidding?" Dawn asked as she got up. "Like to see you keep me away."

Giles started to settle back into his chair, almost itching to meet his granddaughter - not that he let anyone call him a grandfather, he was still far too young and handsome for that – but he could wait a while longer, when he heard someone clearing their throat.

Giles turned, his heart in his throat. How could he have been so stupid as to take his eyes off the other door? The same thought must've passed through Spike and Faith as well, judging by the way they both dropped to attack postures, but they didn't know…

"I don't mean to interrupt…" A man with a familiar voice – and accent – said, not seeming to notice he'd done just that.

"Wesley?" Giles asked, surprised beyond words to see the usurper…fellow Watcher standing in the doorway. Though to be fair, there was little resemblance between the man and the man-child that Giles remembered. It'd been a difficult transition, if the hard look and the three days worth of stubble were any indication.

Surprised and a good bit disappointed. He'd been so sure…

Faith; however, wasn't disappointed in the slightest. Though when she approached Wesley it was without any of her usual self-assurance. She approached her former Watcher as if she was afraid he'd bolt, or disappear, until she stopped close enough to reach out and poke him.

"It's really me, Faith," Wesley promised and, as proof, gestured at the small crucifix around his neck. Faith grinned and launched herself at the older man, grabbing him up into a bear hug.

"Who's he?" Giles heard Tara ask.

"Beats me, luv," Spike answered with a certain wariness that Giles approved of whole-heartedly.

"Faith?" The befuddled look on Wesley's face as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her proved that he hadn't changed completely.

"Oh, sorry," Faith said as she jumped away from him. "Sorry, I didn't… I shouldn't have…"

"It's quite alright, Faith, I forgave you a long time ago," Wesley said, cutting to the heart of the matter. "As, I hope, you've forgiven me?"

"A long time ago," Faith said with all apparent sincerity. Though that went out the window when she belted him in the arm. "Now, where've you been? And where's Angel? I've been worried sick about you ancients. Giles and I have had people looking everywhere."

"In a moment," Wesley said as he rubbed his newly sore arm. He looked past Faith to Xander and Anya. "I hope you don't mind my barging in like this."

Xander shrugged. "Hey, always room for one more. Though if you're going to stay for a visit you'll have to eat at the kiddie table."

"As long as you brought a present," Anya answered at the same time, and then explained when she saw the look Dawn was giving her. "What? I thought gift giving was customary at this occasion."

"You say that about every occasion," Dawn pointed out. "You're just another victim of the Hallmark conspiracy."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Girls," Xander cut in. "I don't think secret British man was done."

"Quite. As a matter of fact I did bring a present." With that he turned to the blue doors. "You can come in now."

At first nothing happened. Wesley scowled and looked as if he was about to go check when the doors pushed open and a woman walked in, a nervous little slip of a woman. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and was wearing a loose purple and green dress with her dark red hair in a braid that ran down to the small of her back.

Giles felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he gave her the once over, something Wesley must have sensed because his back went ram-rod straight. There were two surprises too many for today. And while they at least knew Wesley, this woman… There was something…

"That's your present?" Faith asked. "You brought a date?"

No, that would be too ridiculous for words, even for Wesley. Maybe she was carrying something? No, not unless it was the black bracelet she had on and kept rubbing at. Like everything else about her, the bracelet itched at his brain despite how little of it he'd seen.

He looked back at her face, trying to place it, and noticed for the first time that her eyes were darting between the Scoobies, focusing on each in turn. She barely glanced at Spike, winced when she saw Tara, studied Dawn for a long moment, wouldn't meet Xander or Anya's eyes at all, and finally settled on his.

Her eyes looked far older than the rest of her, and widened when she realized he was watching her. He couldn't help but smile, because now he was sure that those were the same eyes he'd seen using his glasses as a scrying pool.

He opened his mouth to call her name, but Xander beat him to it.

"Willow?"

The woman Willow had become managed a smile that did nothing to hide her anxiety. "Hey, guys."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Willow stood outside the blue doors and watched them swing to a slow stop. A nurse walked by and gave her a curious look, but Willow didn't notice. Every bit of her attention was focused on the bits of conversation she could hear through the thin doors. A decade in hell had made her a very good listener. Her heart raced with each voice she identified; Giles, Faith – who she greeted with an enthusiasm that was notably not – Tara, Spike, Xander, Anya, and Dawn.

It was almost enough, hearing them again, knowing that she hadn't forgotten the sound of their voices. Enough for her to walk away, to let them keep thinking she was dead. Because they'd forgive her anything as long as she was a corpse, but if she walked into that room she'd have to earn the real thing.

She'd never been strong enough to say she was sorry, and she knew that there wasn't a cookie on earth with enough chocolaty goodness to say it for her this time.

She should go. That's what anyone who was really as smart as all those tests claimed would do, because she knew what would happen once she set foot inside. Memories had gotten her this far, after all. Memories and stolen glimpses. She should turn around and walk away.

But she was so close…

"You can come in now," Wesley called out to her, beckoning her in.

She wanted to go in, she wanted to run away.

But most of all she wanted to see Xander and Buffy again, and meet the baby who might still call her Auntie Willow.

That was enough for her to ignore the vampire butterflies that were gnawing away in her stomach and walk through the door. She made it to Wesley's side alive, which she took as a good sign. Maybe her bracelet really was as lucky as Hagbard had promised. She traced over the crosses and Latin phrases that were inscribed on the dark stone just to be on the safe side as she finally looked up from the floor.

At first she was relieved because she didn't see hate in anyone's eyes. Not hate, or anger, or disgust or any of the other emotions she'd spent years dreading. No, what she saw was worse.

Nothing.

No love or joy. She'd seen boxes of donuts greeted with more enthusiasm.

"That's your present? You brought a date?" Faith asked. It wasn't a joke, or at least not much of one. And what little there was was aimed at Wesley.

Willow knew she hadn't changed that much. Sure, she was a little older – okay, a lot older - but still. Red hair, she still had red hair! That had to be something. Her eyes darted from face to face, hoping for a flicker of something, anything. Even hate, she's settle for hate.

Anything would have been better than the emptiness she saw.

Not even Tara recognized her, and she'd once sworn she could find Willow anywhere. Tara's smile grew a hairsbreadth out of a nervous politeness as Willow kept staring, but she didn't blush and look away. Not at all like the girl Willow had first met, the one who stuttered her way through introductions. Now there was an edge about her, a confidence Willow would have never expected.

Willow finally turned away from the stranger Tara had become and tried to meet Xander's eyes. Tried, but couldn't. If he didn't recognize her…

So she looked past him and Anya and Dawn to Giles, which was where she finally saw some flicker of emotion. Disappointment.

Coming here was a mistake, she realized as she reached out to take Wesley's hand. If anyone could think of a graceful way to leave, he could. This was all his fault anyway. His and Hagi's.

"Willow?" Xander asked, sounding hopeful and confused and worried all at the same time.

None of which mattered as much as the fact he remembered. She wanted to launch herself across the room and hug the life out of him, but nothing wanted to work. All she could manage was a half-smile and a lame, "Hi, guys."

Which was when the room twinkled around her.

She heard Wesley shout her name in a panic, though over what she couldn't imagine. She turned to ask, even though the movement made every part of her – including her toes, though that didn't make any sense. Unless they didn't want to be left out, which she more than understood – ache, but he wasn't standing next to her anymore. No, he'd somehow managed to get in front of her without her noticing.

And he looked weird. Well, weirder than normal. He'd somehow grown taller and shrunk, all at the same time. She giggled at the sight of him as she waited and wondered what kind of trick he'd play next. Then she remembered she was the witch. She should be the one doing the magic.

It all made her head hurt.

So she turned away from the odd looking ex-Watcher (If he couldn't Watch anymore, did the rest of his senses get stronger? Was he a Taster now? Or a Hearer? Just as long as he wasn't a Toucher…) and an ocean of white tile appeared just inches in front of her face. Though now drops of dark red spoiled the white.

Blood.

Her blood.

Something she was used to seeing, though there was usually more. Much, much more. Still it gave her something to focus on besides what had to be a sparkling new concussion. She also had something jabbing into her spine, something that felt a great deal like broken drywall.

Despite all the pain, or maybe because of it, Willow felt a surge of pride. It must have been Tara. Who else could knock her across the room – and maybe further if the wall hadn't so inconsiderately gotten in the way – without mussing a hair on Wesley's head?

The fact that the blonde's eyes were glowing only added weight to her theory. She never thought her little Amazon would go so far…

Willow pushed herself up to her feet. "Hugs and kisses to you, too." She tried to smirk at her ex, but it came out as more of a wince.

If Tara cared about either, she showed no sign. A stranger.

Not that anyone else seemed any more concerned. Xander and Giles were standing dumbfounded – she'd like to think it was because of her return, but knew Tara's display played some small part - whereas Dawn had pulled a pair of knives out of her purse and handed one to Anya as the two fell back to guard the door that lead to the delivery room.

And while all this was going on, Spike and Faith were on the move.

"Wait!" Wesley shouted as he raised his hands, palms out, and tried to stop the train wreck. "She's not…" The rest was choked off when Spike wrapped his arm around the Watcher's throat.

"Don't hurt him," Faith ordered as she passed by, a stake in hand. Willow spent a half-second wondering how many other people armed themselves for hospital visits before deciding she didn't want to know. "Don't worry, Wes, we'll break whatever mojo she put on you in a sec. After we finish breaking a few other things." But all the bravado in the world didn't hide the fear in the Slayer's voice.

She should be afraid.

Willow knew a dozen spells that could stop the girl without hurting her. A hundred if hurting wasn't an issue. The words were on her tongue, but that's all they could be, words. The bracelet made sure of that.

So all she could do was wince when Faith slammed her back against the wall with enough force to added bruises to bruises. She didn't try to resist, going hand to hand with a Slayer would only get her a picture next to hopeless in the dictionary. Not that playing Ghandi gained her any mercy. She didn't expect any; if she and Faith switched places she'd be doing the exact same thing. So she didn't fight.

But Wesley did.

There was a meaty thunk as Wesley drove his head back into Spike's face. Spike stumbled back a half step as blood ran down from his nose, which gave Wesley the room he needed to slip free. He turned on his heel, twisting his wrist to the right, enough to trigger the device hidden in his coat.

Even though Willow had seen the sword trick a dozen times, it still managed to impress. Of course a three-foot-long sword popping out of a coat sleeve would impress anyone. Wesley swung the sword up and jammed the tip of the blade into Spike's throat. He didn't break the skin, but the message was clear.

"Faith, stop!" Wesley ordered without looking back. "She's harmless."

Faith did stop, much to Willow's surprise, though she kept Willow pinned against the wall and her stake ready. Her eyes darted to the side, clearly wanting to know what was happening behind her, before locking back on Willow's.

Willow wondered if she should be flattered.

Dawn let out a snort. "Be easier to believe if you weren't all Zorro," she said to Wesley.

"He'll drop it," Spike snarled and glared down the length of the sword. "Or he'll eat it, either way..."

"I have grown very weary of vampires threatening me when I'm trying to do the right thing," Wesley muttered. His hand waved for a moment before he let the blade fall. "And for the record, Dawn, I said she was harmless, not I."

"And why is that, exactly?" Faith asked. "'Cause if I have to play Twenty Questions, Red won't see 15."

"The bracelet," Wesley answered, though it wasn't exactly helpful. "As long as she wears the bracelet she can't perform any spells. It's a…"

Giles eyes lit up with surprise. "A Veneficus Repagula? I thought they were all destroyed…" If everything else hadn't been going on, Giles would've run over to take a closer look at the relic. But everything else was going on, so he stayed rooted to the spot.

"They were," Wesley confirmed, "but my associates managed to create a new one for this occasion."

"Well, isn't that spiffy?" Faith said. "Anyone want to tell me what the costume jewelry does?"

Wesley and Giles shared a look before Wesley nodded for Giles to continue. "It was used in the Middle Ages, on the rare occasion when the Inquisition managed to capture a real practitioner. It prevents the wearer from using mystical energy as long as it's worn."

"So what's keeping her from taking it off?" Spike asked.

"Won't open for me," Willow answered in a low voice. "Someone else has to do it."

"If she's telling the truth," Tara said, her tone made clear how likely she thought that was.

"She is," Wesley said.

The look Tara gave him wasn't pleasant. "You might think that, but you don't know what she can do."

Wesley clearly didn't understand, but Willow did. "I don't do that anymore,"

"Well, then, if you say so…" Dawn cut in, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

"Can you check?" Xander asked, his voice low as he kept his eyes on Willow.

Tara nodded and bent over to grab her purse off the floor. "Just let me get some things."

"And if I refuse?" Wesley asked.

"Then things might get messy," Spike answered. "Bits of Watcher everywhere."

"I see." Wesley glared at Spike for a long moment, then swung out at him. Spike jumped backward, but not before the blade cut through his shirt. Wesley nodded and dropped the blade again. "Do your test."

Spike snorted as his game face slipped free. "If you think that…"

"Spike," Faith warned without taking her eyes off Willow.

Spike glared at her before letting his demon visage slip away. "Fine, do the bloody test. But he'll be dinner if he fails."

"Don't worry, there'll be violence to spare if Red here's been tiptoeing around in his head."

Tara stepped in front of Wesley and offered him a wane smile. "Hi, I'm Tara."

"I know, Willow has…" Wesley began, but dropped the subject when he saw a flicker of light appear in Tara's eyes. "Wesley."

Tara opened her hand, showing off the crushed bits of plants she'd been palming. "This isn't anything personal, we just don't trust your company."

"You're not the first person to say that."

Tara smiled, for real this time, and blew the dust into Wesley's face.

Wesley promptly sneezed. "Allergies."

Tara didn't reply, she was too busy staring at Wesley. Finally she let out a breath. "He looks clean. I guess she's gotten picky over whose mind she violates."

Willow swallowed hard – not that swallowing wasn't already somewhat of a chore, what with the way Faith's elbow was digging into her neck – because she knew she had to say those two little words. "I'm sor…"

"Don't even," Tara snapped. "You think that would make it better? That it would make up for everything you did? Everything I became because of you? Go to hell." With that Tara turned and stormed out of the room.

"Back, actually," Willow murmured.

Spike glared at Wesley one last time before turning to the still swinging door. "Faith?"

Faith nodded. "Go get her. Keep her close."

With that Spike left the room.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," Willow protested and could tell that Faith didn't believe a word of it. "Xander, you know I…"

Xander stared at her, the trust he had in 'His Willow' and the knowledge of what she'd done warring in his face. Before he could take a side Dawn cut in. "We don't know anything. Especially why you thought we had any reason to trust you."

"I have one," Giles said and everyone turned to him in surprise. Except for Willow, who was thankful. "She helped with that Kroeger woman."

"What, how?" Xander asked with the relief of a drowning man thrown a rope.

"Yes," Anya said, nowhere near as relieved as Xander. "I thought that the oaf dropped her investigation."

"After some persuading," Giles winced at the thought of the social worker. "And when that didn't work, I knocked her out so I could alter the records, only to find that someone else was already in the process of doing so. You took a great risk, Willow, in letting me know you were alive."

Willow nodded. "I know. But I had to do something…"

"To get back in our good graces?" Dawn asked.

"To make up for what I did, what I became."

Faith seemed to give that some thought, and when she spoke again it was with a care that Willow had never heard from the girl before. "You remember when I was the one on the other side of bad? When I held you hostage? I never forgot what you told me, how it was too late to come back after all the shit I did. Do you remember that, Red?"

"Yes."

Faith let the moment drag out before she continued. "Well, what you did put me to shame. So give me one reason not to gut you right now."

Willow stared into the other girl's eyes as she tried to think of a reason. But there wasn't one. Not one good enough.

Faith nodded as if she already knew the answer. "Then we're on the same page." With that she pulled the stake and slammed forward, burying it to the hilt in the wall next to Willow's head. Willow looked at the stake and then at Faith, who shrugged and turned away. "I'm not you, Red. Be glad."

A dozen images flashed through Willow's head as she watched Faith saunter away, all of them bloody and violent and each an improvement on the last. The trash had some nerve, pretending that her hands were span-spicking clean. And where did she get off, acting as if these were all her friends? She was just begging to be slapped back down…

But Willow knew she wouldn't be the one doing the slapping. Not because she couldn't, at least not at the moment, but because Faith was right. The thought was a torture all it's own.

But in the end Faith didn't matter. Neither did Spike or Tara or even Dawn. They weren't the ones she'd come back from hell to see. She turned to Xander, who still hadn't moved from the spot where he'd been standing when she had walked in. "Xander…"

"No!" Anya said, slamming the door on the question before Willow could even ask. The lithe ex-demon ran forward and slid between Willow and Xander. "I'm not going to let you hurt him."

"I wouldn't… I didn't…"

"Only because he and Giles stopped you before you could," Anya snapped. "And you're not going to get a second chance."

"Ahn," Xander said, his voice was soft but the message was clear.

"No!" Anya gave Xander a look over her shoulder that would've sent lesser men fleeing away, but Xander didn't even flinch. Anya turned around the rest of the way and wrapped her arms around herself. "I won't let her hurt us again."

"I won't," Willow said, only to have Anya's glare turn to her. She wanted to run away from those cold blue eyes, the eyes of the only Scooby she had tried to kill, but she couldn't. "Anya, I don't have the words to make up for what I did to you. All I can say is, I'm sorry."

Anya's brow scrunched together and Willow expected the other girl to throw the apology back in her face the same way Tara had done, especially when Anya stamped her foot in frustration, so she was doubly surprised when Anya gave in. "Damn it. If you hurt him…"

"I won't."

"Damn it," Anya repeated as turning back to Xander. She looked him over, and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. Willow tried not to notice Anya slip her knife into Xander's left hand, or how he pocketed it with a practiced ease. "Go. But be careful."

"I will," Xander promised and ran a finger down his wife's cheek. "Why don't you take Dawnie in to see Buffy? She's probably freaking by now."

Anya nodded and kissed him again. "All right. Come on, Dawnie," Anya said and held her hand out.

Dawn gave Willow a look that promised gasoline and matches as she took Anya's hand and the two walked through the pink doors.

Xander watched them until they were out of sight, and then turned back to Willow. He gave her his best goofy grin, though it didn't seem to fit him anymore. "Come on, maybe we can find somewhere quiet. Or maybe somewhere with snacks."

"All right," Willow said trying not to sound too giddy as she followed him out the blue doors.

Together again.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"I would've thought it'd be worthy of some spiffy comment."

"What?"

"The fact that you're ten years younger than you should be."

"It probably would have been, but my sense of incredulity died the day I married an ex-demon AND an ex-slayer, and I admire it's grand finale far too much to ever look back. Besides, who're you calling too young, grandma?"

"Grandma! Listen here, you little whippersnapper…" Willow tried to sound offended, but she was having far too much fun. And so was Xander, if the grin on his face was any indication. The banter alone made up for everything else that had happened to her today, even the dull ache in the back of her head.

Add the banter to the fact that she was close enough to Xander that all she had to do was lean a little and she'd be resting her head on his shoulder and she was in a place so close to heaven that it made no difference.

Almost like the last ten years had never happened.

But they had, the fact that his hand never strayed more than a few inches from the pocket he'd stashed Anya's knife proved that, so she settled for being close enough for the occasional brush against his arm while she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

She'd done that a lot over the last nine months, watched. She watched them all: Xander, Buffy, Dawn, Tara, even Faith and Anya, whoever Giles was looking at the moment. She couldn't count the number of times Wesley had found her sitting on her bed, legs crossed under her, and staring at the mirror that she'd spelled to Giles' glasses.

She spent more time spying on them in those nine months than with them in the three years after high school.

Because the truth was she'd started walking away from her family long before that night in the hospital. She turned her back without ever once realizing what she was leaving behind, but now she had a chance to put things right.

And in that mind frame, she decided to take the room they were walking past as a sign.

It was one of the hospital's chapels, one of the bigger ones. There were two rows of five wooden benches with candles and what had to be the biggest cross she had ever seen outside of a church taking up most of the front wall.

And, most importantly, the room was empty.

She'd crossed the threshold before realizing Xander hadn't turned with her. He was still walking straight, his head down and hands in the pockets of his blue scrubs. Willow stifled a giggle as she called his name.

He stopped with a jerk as he realized he had left her behind. He turned and she saw embarrassment and worry written across his face as he followed her into the chapel. "Sorry, Wills, lot on my mind."

Now that was an understatement worthy of awe and admiration. "We could do this later, after you've spent some time with your daughter." Xander turned and gave a longing look down the hallway they'd just come. Willow saw a chance, maybe the only one she would get, and she took it. "And maybe I could go with you. If you want…"

"And if we did that, you'll be too busy with the cooing and awing to even give me a second glance." Xander said, a little too brightly and quickly as he turned back.

Willow tried not to be hurt by the refusal. Besides, she did want to talk to him, to try and make things right between them, so she played along. "As if you plan to let her out of your sight in the next eighteen years, Mr. Alexander LeValle Harris. You forget how well I know you."

"I am not. That would be creepy and overbearing," Xander said as if that were the most offensive thing he'd ever heard. He sounded so serious that she almost bought it. Almost, at least until he got that old sparkle in his eye. "It's twenty-one or bust. Someone has to keep her away from the brooding undead. Wait, how did you know she was a she?"

"Well, the baby clothes were a clue," Willow said, and when she saw the worried confusion come back she explained. "Right before Giles went back to England, after Buffy… I put a spell on his glasses so I could look through them in case he got himself in trouble."

"Like what, demon tea cozies?"

"Well, you know how sneaky they can be. Besides, it let me see your wedding." She smiled as she remembered. She'd almost come back for the event, but she wasn't ready. Not that she was ready now, but at least she was close enough to wing it. "Buffy and Anya were beautiful, but…" she knew she shouldn't say it, but she'd been dying too ever since that day, "you looked like you were late for a tennis match."

"That's what I said! But Rebecca insisted…" He paused again. "How long have you been back?"

"Since two weeks after…" Amy died and she became a murderer. From the way Xander was studying the tile work on the floor, she guessed he didn't want to hear that part any more than she wanted to say it.

"Two weeks here, ten years in hell."

"And you couldn't come back before today? Or call? Or even send me a goddamned postcard to let me know you weren't dead? That I didn't kill my best friend, again?" With that Xander turned and kicked the nearest bench with everything he had. It was bolted to the floor, so nothing moved, but there was a satisfying and almost gong-like bang of steel-toed boot against wood. The suddenness of the move made Willow jump even as Xander deflated. When he spoke again he only sounded tired. "Why didn't you come home?"

"I wanted to come back, every day I wanted to."

"But you didn't," Xander said through what sounded like tears.

"Do you think I wanted to stay away this long?" Willow asked as she blinked away her own. "That I wanted to miss the day you and Buffy and Anya got married? Do you think I sat there and said, 'the baby shower's today, but I'd hate to miss that manicure?' I wanted to be here for all of it…"

"Then why weren't you?"

"Because I wasn't… when I came back, before I left even, I wasn't well. But I am now."

"I thought you were fine before."

Willow winced. "I wasn't."

"Well, as a duh moment goes, this isn't one. I figured that out when you went glowy and started chanting Latin at me. What I want to know is why."

"Maybe it had something to do with Amy dying?" Willow snapped, knowing the question was grossly unfair but not caring. "Having her blood splatter on my face, soak into my clothes…"

"So you went after the bastard that did it. Trust me, no one's crying over Warren..."

An understatement. Warren wouldn't have been any less dead if he'd run into Xander first instead of her. Hell, Xander might have made it last longer. Not because he was shot, he probably didn't even think about that anymore, but because Buffy, Anya and Amy had been. Willow knew he blamed himself for not being able to stop what had happened - and what followed. The fact that Buffy couldn't, not even with Slayer speed, didn't mean a thing. Not to him.

"…I just want to know why you went through your friends – your family to do it."

"I didn't…" Willow tried to protest, only to be stopped dead by Xander's less publicized but even more potent resolve face. She withstood it for nearly a second before she broke.

"We might have been family, but we weren't friends. Not after WE brought Buffy back."

"I know what we did," Xander said, answering the less than subtle accusation. "Never said I didn't."

"Not in words. But how much time did we spend hanging after… a patrol or two? A few trips to the Bronze? After that it was always you, Buffy and Anya with Dawn in tow while Tara and Spike crypted it up. You shoved all the blame on me and then made me disappear."

"No, you don't get to push it all of on us. Not this time," Xander said. "We weren't seniors and what you did was a hell of a lot worse then us necking in a closet. We invited you all the time, to our movie nights, to go Bronzing, you were the one who said no. You, not us."

"What was I supposed to do? Sit there while Buffy glared at me, hating me for bringing her back? Or listen to Tara go on and on about how we're supposed to suffer under our magic, because if we used it for anything less than saving the world we were committing some big sin?"

"Maybe Tara thought you'd crossed a line after you used her brain as a blackboard, though I can't imagine why. And as for Buffy, if you'd stuck around you might've noticed it when she dealt."

"She was never there."

"She wasn't far." Xander reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've been best friends since we wore pajamas with feet, Will. Did you really think I'd slam the door in your face if you came around?"

"No," Willow admitted in a whisper, "but maybe it was easier to pretend."

Because the truth was, while she had been jealous when Buffy started to spend more and more time with Xander and Anya, she was also a little relieved. And not just because Buffy seemed happier for the attention.

No, she was relieved because there was no one left in the house to remind her of how much or how often she'd screwed up. It would have taken a moment – well, a day or two. Maybe three – to see if Buffy really was in a hell dimension, but she was so sure. Girl jumps into a portal to hell, girl dies, girl's soul goes to hell. It was so simple even Percy could've figured it out. Except it wasn't.

For anyone else that would've been lesson enough, but she'd always been an extra special kind of stubborn. Stubborn enough to keep abusing the magics, to keep taking the easy way, until she finally drove Tara away.

Only to be replaced by Amy, the same way Buffy and Xander had replaced her with Anya…

Anya, of all people. She'd hated Anya for that, for so many things. For being so over-literal, for always talking about how good sex was with Xander, for calling her a thief when she borrowed supplies from the Magic Box, and for tricking her the first time they'd met.

All of which were good reasons in and of themselves for hating someone, but they weren't the real reason. No, she'd hated Anya for turning away from her power.

Because Willow had been a nobody all her life, Xander's geeky friend who was good for homework and studying but nothing else. Then came the magic; returning souls, going toe to toe with a hell god, resurrecting her friend, until in the end she became someone that even the Slayer called a big gun. Heady didn't begin to describe how all that had felt.

Which made it all the harder to understand how Anya could turn her back on the magic. Sure, she made one half-hearted attempt to get back her power center and cut the ex out of ex-demon, but that was it. Not that she had to go back to demonhood, she had the potential to be as witchy as Willow or Tara. It wasn't like she'd found a Complete Idiots Guides to turning people to trolls lying around, after all. But she didn't even try, except for the stories about the good old days she adjusted.

Willow couldn't even imagine what she'd do if she'd lost her powers, but she knew adjusting wouldn't be one of the options, and didn't want to think about what she'd do to get them back. But that wasn't what earned Anya a glare each and every time she walked by.

No, it was that Anya should have been a nobody without power, just like the old Willow, but she wasn't. People still listened to her. She was the one who figured out how to beat Glory and found the Urn that brought Buffy back. Heck, even Giles was awed by how much she knew about demons. The other Scoobies might not have all liked Anya, but they never looked down on her.

Not like they did Willow, or at least the Willow she had been until she'd gotten enough power to make them respect her.

Not that it was Willow they respected.

She saw the trap she was in, but didn't want to deal. So she kept it buried as well as she could with Anya walking around as a daily reminder. And Tara and Buffy.

And then all three left. And left her with Amy, who was almost as reckless with the Black Arts as Willow in her rush to make up for all the life she'd missed when she was a rat.

All was well. Sure, Anya was taking her place a bit more every day, but besides some snarkiness she didn't worry or care. Not when she was the Guardian of the Hellmouth, the hero at long last, while Buffy recovered. And she even had a girlfriend who actually supported her instead of always saying no, that would be wrong. Besides, she knew that no matter how close Anya got, she could never fill the Willow-shaped space in Buffy and Xander's lives.

Or, at least, that's what Willow thought. And she kept thinking that right up to the second she saw the threesome on the table at the Magic Box, when every little doubt came back with the gentleness of a shovel to the face.

"Why didn't you tell me? About the three of you?" Willow blurted out the question. "Why did I have to find out on Geekvision? Why was I the last one to know?"

"Wasn't Dawn…" Xander began before he caught the look in Willow's eyes. "That wasn't the way we wanted it to happen, but we needed some alone time to get used to the idea."

"Time," Willow asked. The lie was so gigantic she had to giggle. "You three spent months joined at the hip. Both hips. You were a multi-hiped creature."

"Well, considering the hips I was attached to…" Xander grinned. "But we weren't, not like that, anyway. I admit there were… signs, but I shoved them into my wishful thinking file. Nothing happened until the night after the wedding fiasco."

Only a week then, they only kept it a secret for a week before she found out. "If I hadn't… Were you ever going to tell me?

Xander looked away. "Sooner or later. We didn't think you'd take it well. Imagine that…" Not even Xander could've made the last bit sound like a joke, so he didn't try.

She didn't expect him to; she knew she acted like she was a 100 percent pure bitcha. Called them freaks, said their relationship was wrong and topped it all off by setting up a lust removal spell. It was the Chernobyl of over-reactions.

"…though you did seem calmer the next day…"

So he didn't know about the spell, which meant that Tara never told. Not even after what Willow did to her. Or maybe her ex already had so many reasons to hate her she didn't need any more.

"…at least until Warren," Xander's voice faded out when he mentioned the name.

Willow felt ill. She remembered hearing the gunshots, but she was too busy fighting with Tara to realize what they were until the last bullet shattered the window and burst through Amy's heart.

After that it was a rush of images; Amy's blood on her hands, setting Amy down on a table in Angel's mansion and then surrounding it with flowers she'd pulled in from around the world, tossing Spike into one tree after another as if he were the ball in pinball, kissing a nearly catatonic Tara on the forehead, hunting Warren, hurting him, killing him, watching Amy's body burn, crucifying Buffy to a wall with vines, sinking her fingers into her best friend's stomach and using what she'd learn from Glory to drain the slayerness out of her, and last and worse, using her magic to shove leisurely shove a bullet into Anya's chest.

Just like Warren had done to Amy.

She felt Xander's arms go around her and pull her to his chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered between sobs that shook her down to her knees and kept repeating until her voice broke and the sobs became hiccups. Xander didn't say a word as he rocked her back and forth and stroked her hair, not until she finally stopped crying. She let him keep rocking her as she observed, "This isn't what I planned."

"What, having a screaming match in a church? It's what I always imagined." He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you?"

Willow sniffed. "'Bout half as much as I missed you." She wished she didn't have to move, because she didn't remember her Xander's chest being so comfortable, but she'd given up any right to stay there a long time ago. She tried to back away, but Xander wouldn't let her, not at first anyway. But he finally relented, and as soon as he did she wrapped her arms around herself. Not that it was anywhere near the same. "I don't know how…" She couldn't finish.

Not that she had to, not with Xander. He grinned at her and shrugged. "What can I say, I've always had a weakness for weeping Willow's."

It took a second to register. "Xander!" Willow shouted with a giggle that made Xander's face light up.

"You think that's bad? I've got a nine month of these gems stored up." As he said it he reached into a pocket and handed her his hanky.

She wiped her eyes and tried to keep some restraint as she asked, "Will I get a chance to hear them?" with as much restraint as she could manage.

Xander still looked torn, but in the end he nodded. "Rules though, this comes with rules," he said before she could become too excited, "the end zone we can negotiate latter. First is that as long as you're here, that mystical bracelet thingee on your arms stays on. Sunnydale's magic free zone for you, missy."

"What if…"

"We'll take things on an apocalypse by apocalypse basis."

"Okay. Then good, I'm of the good."

"Good," Xander repeated without realizing because he obviously didn't want to say what he had to say, "Two, if Anya, Buffy or Dawn have a problem with any of this you can't stay."

"But…"

"Within reason. You're family, but don't make me pick. Not this time. I'm a married man now – I love saying that – and it'll be like cutting of an arm or going Greek on an eye, but I mean it."

"All right," Willow said, though with a marked lack in enthusiasm. "Anything else?"

"No, not from me. A word of warning, though. When you visit our house, don't eat all the ice cream. Bad things happen. Bad, bad things. Trust me on that."

"I can imagine. So, what now?"

Xander turned and looked at the cross without saying anything for a long time, and when he did his voice was tight. "I could take you out to see Amy's grave tomorrow, if you want. I think you'll… We managed to find her a place on a hill over a pond. If there were ducks…"

"Thank you," Willow whispered, touched beyond words that he'd remembered Amy's favorite book.

"But that's for tomorrow," Xander said as he reached over and took Willow's hand. "Come on, I think it's time you met Jessie."

"Jessie?" Willow couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. It's been so long since anyone had said his name that she'd thought Xander had forgotten about their friend. Which, on reflection, was probably the stupidest thing she'd ever thought.

"The baby."

"I figured that much out on my own, thank you. Jessie, huh? I think he'd like it."

"What, being that close to a girl? I don't think he'd complain," Xander said, hiding behind the joke. "You didn't know, what with your I Spy spell?"

"Didn't do sound," Willow said with an annoyed humph. "And lip reading is no where near as easy as it looks on TV." They stood there in silence for another few moments, as she looked him over. It was amazing, he'd changed so much but somehow managed to stay the same old Xander she'd grown up with. "I can't believe you're a daddy."

"Yeah, I know. Sure sign of the apocalypse." Xander slipped an arm around her shoulder.

She slapped his chest as they turned and walked out of the chapel. "You know that's not what I meant. You're going to be a great dad."

"Well, all I can say is I'm glad that the daddy test was true or false, if it was an essay all I had was 'I am a fish.'"

Willow rolled her eyes, both recognizing and accepting the old routine. Him using jokes to cover how nervous he was while she was the straight man – which was all the funnier when she thought about it. So they walked the rest of the way back to the Waiting Room in silence.

A comfortable silence this time, though, as she leaned against him.

She pulled away when they got there, afraid that the people inside would think the worse. Only to find that there wasn't anyone inside. "Maybe the gift shop is having a sale?" Willow offered as they walked through the deserted room.

Xander's only answer was a shrug, not that Willow expected anything different. Everyone was probably spread out in case she did something. And if they were, so what? She'd do the same thing in their place.

They'd went through the next door when Willow stopped in her tracks. Not because there was anything in her way, the hallway was empty except for a couple of nurses and a janitor, but because of the hallway itself, or more accurately what was on the walls.

And it wasn't the pink and blue paintjob – not that that wasn't distracting in it's own right. If the colors were any brighter even the blind would turn away – but what was under the paint.

Crosses, thousands of them. None were bigger than an inch, but they covered the walls like a rash. They were all painted over, so they didn't stick out too much, but that didn't affect their influence. A master vampire would be able to get down the hall, though it would be hurting by the end, but a fledgling wouldn't make it halfway. "Nice to know someone in this town is paying attention."

"Thank you."

"You?"

"Why do you think we chose this hospital?" Xander asked as he reached out and brushed his hand over the embossed wall. "My team remodel this entire floor at the beginning of the year. The only hard part was getting a priest in here to bless everything; the hospital administrators never said a word about the extras."

"Cool."

"I thought so. Well, here we are." With that he stopped at the second to last door in the hallway.

Willow stood there and stared through the small window at the top of the door. Buffy, Anya and Dawn were all piled on the bed with Buffy in the middle. It was an amazing fit, considering the size of the bed. And they somehow managed to make it look comfy, too, like a dog pile. Anya had a leg draped over Buffy's while Buffy had her head on Anya's shoulder and Dawn was reaching over her sister. They were all either playing with or gazing at the bundle Anya was holding in her arms with a care that Willow had thought was reserved for things with cash value.

.

Maybe a little too comfy, because Buffy's eyes were closed far more often then they were open. She looked exhausted, which was a first for a girl who once died, came back, killed a master vampire and still had the energy to go to the Spring Formal. But now… Heck, even her hair looked tired.

"I'm glad Cordy isn't here," Willow murmured the first thought that came into her head.

Xander laughed. "Yeah, though I'm sure she'd work in the congratulations somewhere between makeup tips."

Dawn laughed at something and looked up at the door. It was eerie how fast her smile disappeared when she saw Willow. She whispered something to the other two as she glared at Willow. Anya didn't look much happier when she saw Willow, but at least her eyes didn't scream 'bitch' like Dawn's did.

Buffy's face, though, was an emotionless cipher.

It would have been enough to send Willow scampering away if Xander hadn't put his hand on the small of her back and gently pushed her into the room. "Look who followed me home, guys."

Nothing had happened for a long moment when Dawn and Anya stood up and took a few steps away from the bed. Jessie cried once as Anya pulled her even closer and started making shushing noises.

Through it all the only part of Buffy that moved was her eyes as she studied Willow.

And then her face lit up as she threw open her arms.

Willow took a hesitant step forward, ready to bolt if Buffy so much as twitched, before rushing forward. Her hug was gentle, almost without actual touching, because she'd hurt her best friends enough and would be damned before she did it again.

Buffy didn't have that inhibition; she hugged back so hard it hurt even without Slayer strength. Not that Willow cared; being here was worth a broken rib or two. Or even a dozen.

No, the only thing she cared about was how many times she could sob out I'm sorry, even though she'd thought she'd run out of tears after her breakdown with Xander.

"I know," Buffy said through her own tears. When the storm had finally passed Buffy grabbed Willow's arms and gently pushed her away so she could get a better look. "Where have you been?" Buffy asked, the 'why the hell weren't you home before now' part obvious in her tone.

Willow's hand froze in mid-wiping her eyes with Xander's hanky, which she seriously doubted he'd want back, as her mind raced for a way out of the question. She'd thought she'd dodged this bullet when Xander didn't ask, but should've known she wouldn't be that lucky. "You're not going to believe me."

"Try me," Buffy said, in her official Slayer voice.

Willow sighed and hoped the mental ward was as comfy as the bed she was sitting on. "A bunch of places, but I spent most of my time on a yellow submarine."

Buffy opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it. "Ah."

"It was a big submarine," Willow added, as if that would help.

Buffy nodded and reached down to pat Willow's hand. "I'm sure it was."

"I think she got into the painkillers they gave Buffy," Dawn fake-whispered to Xander.

Buffy grinned as her head slide back down to her pillow, as if she'd just remembered she was exhausted. "Mmm, pain killers good."

Willow just had to laugh. "I'm sure they were, but I didn't take any."

"Better not." Buffy's eyes started to droop when they flew back open. "Do you want to hold our baby?"

"Yes, please," Willow said, almost giddy.

"No," Anya said. It wasn't a two-year-old shriek of protest or a hysterical cry. No, it was a simple statement of fact as she turned to put herself between the baby and Willow.

Willow wanted to protest, to say that she'd die before hurting their daughter, to say that they didn't have anything to be worried about.

Except they did.

And everyone in the room knew it, so no one said a word.

When it was clear that no one was going to protest Anya relaxed. "But you can look." With that she walked over and gingerly sat down next to Willow on the bed. It was a peace offering of sorts, one that was almost a stiff as the way Anya's ramrod straight back and backed up with a half dozen unstated threats.

But Willow knew it was still better than she deserved, so she was careful not to breathe to hard as she leaned over. "Hey there."

Jessie looked up at Willow with her big chocolate brown and slightly crossed eyes. She was tiny and red and wrinkled and looked nothing like the TV babies Willow had seen all her life.

"She's perfect," Willow said.

"Well, duh," Dawn said, the moment taking the edge out of her voice.

Jessie stared at Willow one more time before leaning against Anya and closing her eyes.

Like daughter, like mother. Willow felt the thin mattress shake as Buffy finished her slide down to her pillow. "You'd better still be here when I wake up," Buffy murmured to Willow moments before she started snoring.

"I will be."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Nine months ago

Wesley felt almost guilty for standing there while a man at least three times his age knelt on the cold concrete floor. He would have offered to do the job himself, but he knew that the magic circle had to be created by the one who planned to use it.

Besides, the man it was clear that the man was enjoying himself, since he was whistling what had to be the Andy Griffith theme as he ran the wide brush against the concrete, pausing every few moments to dip the brush into the bucket at his side. Wesley wished he could pretend it was paint, but the smell denied him that option.

"It's all donated, you know," the man said as he finished the last few strokes. "The Firm always has volunteers standing by for these kinds of emergencies."

"Whether they wish to or not."

The man's chuckle was so dry that it turned to a coughing fit. When he finally recovered he had tears running down the wrinkles of his face. "Have you ever met anyone who said no to the Senior Partners, boy?"

"Yes."

Not even age could disguise the surprise on the man's face.

"They were being used for spare parts. My boss… Angel rescued them."

"Ah yes, I'd heard about that. It was a rough week." The man did the last stroke then leaned back. It was a toss up which protested the loudest, his spine or his back. "Does it meet your approval?" He held his hand up and Wesley moved to help the man to his feet.

Manners over all else, one of the many lessons Wesley's father had beaten into him.

Once the man was up Wesley looked over the rest of the preparations. The circle was nearly thirty feet wide and had taken the better part of an hour to paint, the hexagram it contained took much less time, but then there were twelve people working on that. The twelve were already in place, six on the outer points of the stars and six on the line intersections inside. There was no chanting, it wasn't time yet, and no idle talk. Wesley wondered what they would have to talk about, considering they were of all ages, races and sexes. Though the fact that they were all nude might have more to do with their silence then any age or gender gap.

Though, by all appearances, he was the only one who noticed.

"It always amazes me," Wesley muttered as he studied the circled star pattern, "that the more complex the spell, the simpler the design. When I first began studying I imagined it to be the other way around."

"That nonsense is for beginners, and charlatans," the old man said with some bitterness. "If more people figured that out I might be able to retire, or I'd be dead, or both."

True enough. That was the great divide in the mage's world, between the vast majority who believed that the magical energy could only be accessed through talismans, eyes of newt, and prayers in dead languages to even deader gods, and the very few who knew better, that the users themselves were the conduits and the rest was as much a show as anything in Vegas.

And of those, only a fraction made the leap prepared, after spending decades of study, solitude and practice. The rest made what was essentially a leap to sudden godhood only after an event that erased years of blind repetition and entrenched beliefs. And since those events by definition rarely involved hugs or puppies things usually went very bad very fast.

Those who didn't kill themselves were often hunted down and killed because power crazed mages were in no one's best interest. On either side of the War.

Of the thousands who were involved in the magical arts, only thirty-seven had survived their toss into the shark pool. No, thirty-eight, he'd forgotten the two who made the jump last week, even if only one was still in this dimension. It'd be thirty-nine if things went well tonight and they managed to rescue the other.

And Wolfram and Hart had gathered a third of those over the last three days, a lifetime considering the resources the Firm had, and brought them here. They were willing to risk them all to bring one girl back.

It was insanity.

On everyone's part.

The old man's face split into an enigmatic smile that made Wesley worry that his thoughts weren't as private as he'd hoped. "If you'll excuse me, it's almost time. It's been a pleasure, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce," he said, but didn't offer his hand.

"Likewise." Wesley wished he knew the man's name, but it had never been offered. None of the mages had, and Wesley never asked. It some ways not knowing made things easier.

He watched the old man shuffle off to a point exactly thirteen paces from the top tip of the star, which was represented by a rather fetching red haired woman, and shrugged off his black silk robe. He started a chant that was more sounds than words that the others picked up by the end of a heartbeat.

Wesley backed away from the hexagram. It wouldn't do to be too close if… when things went wrong. He'd been around magic too long to believe things would go as planned. Besides, now that the preparations were complete he finally had a chance to study his surroundings.

They were in a warehouse, larger than most, nearly seven hundred feet long and three hundred wide with the hexagram painted in the exact center. For all that room, the place was empty, so empty that he could hear the chant echoing off the thick concrete walls.

Not that it had always been. There were signs everywhere that it had been emptied in a hurry. Tire tracks burnt into the ground, the smell of sweat, rubber and exhaust still wafted through the air, and – most damning of all – there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen anywhere. As if even that would tell him too much about what had been stored here.

There were dozens of powerful lights in the ceiling, but only a fraction of them were on. And they were just bright enough to make the shadows darker.

All in all, the perfect place to violate several laws of physics, and one or two of God's if there was time.

He heard heels clicking on the bare cement behind him and grinned despite himself. "I hope you didn't go through all this trouble for me," he rasped without turning. He didn't have to, he knew who it was. There was only one other person here who wasn't involved in the spell.

Outside was another story. He'd seen twenty guards on the way in, and he knew there were more he hadn't, and a full medical team on standby.

"What trouble?" Lilah asked, her tone teasing out of the darkness. Wesley tensed as she lightly grabbed his shoulders and leaned in close enough that her dark hair tickled the side of his face as her perfume tickled his nose. "Don't worry, Wes, I won't bite. Unless you ask of course."

"I won't."

She moved even closer, close enough to brush her body against his back. "Maybe not now. Tonight though…"

He stepped out of her grasp. "There won't be a tonight."

"That's what you said yesterday, and yet somehow…" She let it drop as she moved to stand next to him. "And no, we didn't do all this for you. Why would Wolfram and Hart care if you knew where we hid all of the little 'knick-knacks' we've pick up?"

"Because I'm one of the good guys."

Her grin came back. "Keep telling yourself that, Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody, and you might be able to convince yourself. But we know better. Me and Angel."

Wesley clamped his mouth shut so hard he feared he'd cracked a tooth to keep from repeating himself again. He did the right thing with Conner; he'd believe that to the grave – the grave Angel had come so close to introducing him to - Angel said his son smelled like food for heaven's sake. He had to get the child away from his father, away from the danger. He wouldn't have been able to look himself in the mirror if he hadn't tried and Angel had followed through.

No, the only mistake he'd made that night was by not shooting Justine the moment she'd showed up. He'd thought he could save her from Holtz and his crusade for vengeance… No, he'd thought he could save her from herself, but she didn't want saving.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

And what had doing the right thing gotten him? He'd been nearly suffocated, abandoned by his friends, and given the grand new scar that was sure to be a hit at parties. He'd done the right thing, and had been cast down for it.

And delivered him to a gift-wrapped temptation. His eyes strayed to the woman at his side, at her white blouse that was a beacon in the darkness and skirt that seemed to shrink daily. The maestro of temptation, who knew exactly what button to push, whether it was with a walk, a look or a word.

He wouldn't be here if she wasn't, if she hadn't dangled the apple of redemption in front of him.

"To answer your question, no. This building was designed to hold some of our more 'volatile' possessions, so it's the perfect place for this kind of thing. We emptied it out so nothing would blow up in our faces."

"Shame, I had so wanted to see the one true Ark."

"Don't be silly, Wes," Lilah said, a laugh in her voice, "that's stored at a different branch all together. Trust me, we're the most valuable things here. And the only reason I'm here is because my head's on the line and I'm not going to lose it because some nobody screwed up. But you can go if you want. I'd be happy to stop by later and tell you how everything went."

"Do you really expect me to take your word?"

"Why not? You have so far."

It was the truth, as far as it went. When she'd dropped a folder into his lap four days ago he'd almost tossed it back into her face until he saw the name printed across the top.

Willow Rosenberg.

The fact that Wolfram and Hart even knew the girl's name was worrisome. He hadn't thought they'd been aware of the Sunnydale crowd, but not as worrisome as what he read inside. He had tried to call the Summers residence for confirmation, but there was no answer. He'd even tried calling Giles before remembering that the man had gone back to England.

"Only because I've had no choice."

"We always have a choice, Wes. I'm just hoping that this jury-rigged mess of a spell will work."

"It will work," Wesley said a confidence reserved for calling a U.S. win in the World Cup.

Because jury-rigged was putting it nicely. Willow, if it was Willow, had transmitted a specific spell to open the dimensional gateway in her distress call. A spell that called for a specific group of people, none of whom Wesley was sure still lived. So he'd altered the spell until it screamed, and doubling the number of participants was the smallest of those changes.

"That's why I came to you, Wes. I always admire a man who stands by his promises."

Wesley flashed her a grin of his own. "As I recall, we didn't do much standing that night."

"No, we didn't."

Wesley had to keep himself from jumping when she brushed her hand against his. Of all the things they'd done, that was the first he'd found to be even the slightest bit intimate. A slip under her mask, perhaps? If so, then there might be hope for her…

Deliver him from temptation.

He stepped away and hoped that she wouldn't notice. A wasted hope, but she acted as if it didn't matter. Though there was no disguising the pain in her eyes. Unless there was… Unless it was just another act…

Things were so clear when he was a Watcher. People were either human or not, and the sum total of his duty was to save the one and kill the other. But that was before Los Angeles, before he'd started working for a vampire that was more of a champion than any Watcher, before he dealt with and was betrayed by a man who had followed said vampire through the centuries in a quest for vengeance that made him more a demon than any vampire.

He missed the clarity.

Maybe today would be the day he got some back.

"The spell will work," Wesley said again, "if we're in time."

"Yeah, that's the billion dollar question." Lilah seemed grateful for the retreat to business. "That's the real bitch about dimensional travel. Time. Too much here, not enough there. Decade there, week here. It's a good thing whoever's calling has good 'lungs,' another few weeks and it'd be too late."

Fail? Again? Not if Wesley could help it. He heard the chanting pick up and turned back to the show. "It's time."

The twelve on the hexagram raised their hands to the sky as one, and the air in the middle started to shimmer. Not that the effort didn't take its toll. Sweat rushed off their bodies and pooled at their feet, mixing with the blood already there. What looked like a relieving wind swept out of the shimmering air except it kept growing in intensity until it tore at the people inside the circle's edge.

Everything was going exactly according to plan.

And then it all went to hell.

"And here I thought they all stripped to show off," Lilah complained. She pulled at the collar of her blouse as the temperature in the warehouse jumped ten degrees, then another ten, and another until it was as hot as the worst summer day. If it was that hot out here then the wind must have been the only thing to keep it bearable inside the circle…

The circle…

Was boiling, or at least the blood that it was bubbling from the heat. Wesley looked at the old man in a panic and saw the pain on the man's face. He started to rush forward when Lilah grabbed his arms.

"Something's wrong!" Wesley shouted as he ripped free of her grasp. "We have to…"

"Stay right here!" Lilah shouted back, her hair already soaked with sweat.

Before Wesley could argue the old man burst into flames, and the circle with him. There was one short scream of pain as the flames licked at the ceiling twenty feet up. None of the other mages responded, but Wesley did. He grabbed Lilah and threw her down at the floor and fell on top of her as the previously contained winds burst free.

The wind whistled around him, hurricane strength easily, strong enough that it almost ripped Wesley off of Lilah. He looked for a handhold, or a place to hide but couldn't find anything. Though it did answer the question as to why such care was taken in emptying the warehouse.

"A girl could get used to this attention!" Lilah screamed in his ear to be heard.

It was so inappropriate Wesley laughed, which was probably why she said it. He looked up into the wind, which made him glad he didn't wear his glasses anymore because they'd be torn off, and saw the twelve mages still standing in place as if the wind wasn't there.

"We should stop…"

"No!"

"One man's died already, how many more…"

"As many as it takes!" Lilah said, her voice firm as she turned her head far enough around to see into his eyes. Or, well, eye "They knew the risks, just like they know their families will be well compensated."

"Bitch."

She grinned. "And proud of it."

Before Wesley could say anything else there was another bright flash as the red haired woman at the top of the star combusted, though this time the flames were almost immediately blown out. And she was followed almost immediately by the mage at the base of the star, a boy who barely looked fifteen.

"They aren't strong enough to control the magics!" Wesley shouted, his worse fears confirmed. At this rate they'd burn out like so many firecrackers before the gateway was opened.

Then a solid wall of air swept over them, lifting them off the ground and tossing them down the length of the warehouse like so many leaves. The tumbled back to the hard cement floor together, Wesley twisting to take as much of the impact as possible.

The blow knocked him out for just an instant, and when he came to he realized Lilah was on top now, her knees all but nailed to the ground on either side of his hips and her skirt hiked up even higher because of her position, while he had his arms wrapped around her back and was pulling her as close as possible because if anything the wind had grown worse the further away they'd gotten.

He twisted his head up so he could see the spell ground. It was easy enough to find despite the tumbling he'd just taken, either the wind or the electricity in the air had fried all the overhead lights so the only light came from the shimmering patch of air.

Which seemed no closer to parting than it had in the beginning.

And to make matters worse, three more mages were gone. They were dying in order, first the ones at the arms of the star would die, and then the ones at the center. Despite that, not one of the mages moved to close the gate.

They feared the Senior Partners that much.

Another burst of wind forced Wesley to look away and back at the woman who was crouched over him. "We're going to die here, you know."

"Don't worry, the warehouse was designed to take worse than this."

Of that he had no doubt. "I meant by getting out brains bashed out against the walls."

"Well, there is that…"

The room flashed again, and by Wesley's count that was the last of the outer mages, leaving the six in the center to either finish the spell or end it.

The wind picked up again, and he could feel Lilah being torn out of his even as he tightened his grip. He didn't know how much more room they had and wouldn't let go, not even when he started to be lifted too.

And then the wind stopped.

"Thank God," Wesley sighed.

"I don't know," Lilah purred as she rubbed her hips against his before standing up and fixing her skirt, "I thought it was a fun. Now, let's see who we've reeled in." With that she turned and started back.

Wesley stood up and followed her in silence. The wind had scrubbed the hexagram clean of ashes, though somehow the air remained as hot as ever. The mages who had survived had collapsed to the ground, exhausted. All seven…

But there were supposed to be six…

He made his way forward, ignoring the twinge that shot up his left leg with every step, hurrying to see if he was right or if he was concussed. He stepped over one of the fallen mages and breathed a quick prayer that she was still alive before pushing her out of his mind, his only focus on the woman in the middle.

She was on her stomach, as naked as the rest with dirty red hair that ran down the length of her back, a back that was a roadmap of scars. His heart was in his throat as he grabbed her by the shoulder - though he wouldn't realize how hard until he saw the bruises the next day - and rolled her over.

"Is it her?" Lilah asked.

Wesley nodded, to nervous to say anything, as he took off his coat and draped it over Willow. So much for the easy part.

Lilah cocked her head to the side as she looked the other woman over. "Thought she'd be taller, considering she's the most powerful witch on Earth and all."

Wesley barely listened as he hugged Willow closer. It was like holding a radiator to his chest but he wasn't about to take chances now.

He felt Willow stir. "Xander?" She asked through parched and bleeding lips as she opened her eyes. Eyes that looked like a shattered black mirror, her normal white and green showing through the cracks.

"No," Wesley said as gently as he could. "It's me, Wesley. Go back to sleep."

Willow tilted her head in surprise and started to struggle in his arms when the strain of the spell caught up with her and she went limp in his arms.

Lilah shrugged off the exchange as she grabbed a small radio off her belt and flipped it open. "The package is here. Send in medical team." She waited a half second, but the expected confirmation never came. "Hello? Anyone awake out there?"

"They aren't going to answer, Lilah," Wesley said.

"They will if they know what's good for them."

"I mean they can't answer."

Lilah scowled at him as she shoved the radio back onto her belt. "What did you do?"

"What I had to. For what it's worth I'm…" He paused to find the right word but he couldn't. "…not sorry, but I wish you weren't involved."

"Do you think this will get you forgiven?" Lilah asked. "Or that they'll trust you again? Because they won't. Stay with me, Wes, after this you can get anything you want from Wolfram and Hart. Money, power, respect, an office with a view, anything."

"It's tempting," Wesley said as he stood, Willow light in his arms. And it was. All he had to do was say yes and he would have everything his father ever wanted for him. All it would cost him would be his soul, what little of that was left. "But no."

With that he turned and walked to the door.

Lilah shrugged. "I'm only saying this to save you, Wes. You know there's no where on Earth you can hide from us."

"Perhaps, but then I don't expect to spend too much time walking on the earth."

If the odd comment threw Lilah she made no sign. "I can pretend this never happened until you walk out that door, and then you're a dead man."

"Angel said very much the same thing to me a few weeks back," Wesley noted, "and with far more fire and I'm still here. Good bye, Lilah."

"That's it? After the last few weeks that's all you have to say to me?" Lilah asked, sounding very young.

Wesley paused and looked back. He was almost tempted to ask her to join him. If they could keep he and Willow safe one more shouldn't be a problem. He could save… But then he saw Justine's face. "As a matter of fact, the people I contacted do have a message for the Partners. Tell them Hagbard Celine said hi and thanks."

"Hagbard Celine?" Giles interrupted, horror in his voice as a green pallor spread over his face.

Though that might have more to do with the fluorescent lights then any actual ill feelings.

The horrid lighting matched the strict utilitarianism of the halls; no drawings, pictures or even a wreath to mark the fact that Christmas was only days away, a stark contrast from the excess that had driven the two ex-Watchers from the maternity ward's waiting room to begin with. If it wasn't for that fact that it was nighttime the two might have gone outside for a taste of normalcy, but no…

Or maybe Wesley was wrong to blame the lights…

"You handed Willow over to the Discordians? Bloody hell, man! What were you thinking?"

For a moment Wesley felt like the young fool he'd been when he first came to Sunnydale, but only for a moment. "That Willow needed help, more help than I could provide, and she needed it sooner rather than later."

"You could have brought her here," Giles said as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "between the two of us…"

"I didn't know anyone WAS still here. No one bothered to tell me that Ms. Summers had moved. And if I had, what would we have done? Watched her burn out if the others didn't kill her first?"

"They wouldn't…"

"You saw what happened today," Wesley said before Giles could finish his denial. Giles' charges had taken Willow down with the same ruthless efficiency that they'd use on any monster. "And that was after NINE months, what would have happened if I'd brought her back after a mere nine days?

Giles still wanted to deny it, the need was written over his face with thick brush strokes, but he couldn't. No wonder the man appeared so much older now. "But the Discordians? They're chaos worshippers."

"Only in the strictest sense," Wesley allowed. Hagbard and his allies were among the few who didn't view the War in strictly human versus demon terms, who realized that there were good demons and bad humans and acted accordingly. Though they did take a special pleasure in tweaking governments and groups like the Council and Wolfram and Hart. Not that Wesley blamed them, bunch of ponces. "Besides, she needed help immediately and they were the only ones who could offer it in time. Well, they and Wolfram and Hart."

That was an understatement, if the gateway spell had lasted much longer she would've become a human torch the same as those poor unfortunates in the warehouse. As it was, she was in a coma for over a week. And as if the mystical damage wasn't bad enough, there was the mental.

"She won't ever be the girl you knew again," Wesley said, his heart heavy in his chest.

Giles shook his head and sounded almost cheerful as he disagreed, "In the end, we are who we are."

"I'm not sure if that's comforting or worrying."

"Go with comforting, heaven knows we could all use some," Giles advised. "So why today, then? Why bring her back now?"

"Because its what she needed," Wesley answered, and then he scowled at the older man, "and because she thought she was invited."

Giles turned away. "They didn't know."

"What?"

"I didn't… I wasn't sure it was her…" Giles said, the words stumbling over themselves. "I didn't want to get everyone's hopes up if it wasn't… or to drop their guard if it was… not when there's so much on the line…"

"Pardon?" Wesley asked, lost by the last remark. Only to be sent stumbling back when Giles turned.

Because the expression of stark terror and utter determination the older watcher was wearing would have fit well on any murderer. And, considering Giles's past, Wesley wasn't about to take any chances. Especially not when Giles started reaching for the pocket of his overcoat.

Only to stop, mid-motion. The emotion drained from Giles face, leaving him looking even more haggard, as if he hadn't had a good night sleep in months. Wesley loosened arm so as not to trigger the sword stashed up his sleeve. "Giles… Rupert… What is it?"

Giles didn't answer, not until they were back in the now empty waiting room. He scowled at the couch were they'd seen Faith last. "I thought she was going to wait here."

"Faith, wait?" Wesley asked and felt like chuckling. The girl may have matured some since the last time he'd seen her, but sitting still in an empty room? Not likely. "Maybe she had to use the facilities, or decided to go for a walk. What does it matter?"

"There's only one other way into the maternity ward, and that's for staff only. I wanted her guarding this door."

"Again, why?"

"Because," Giles began before stopping with such suddenness his teeth clacked together.

"Mr. Giles… Rupert, if you're expecting trouble I could be of help. I like to think I'm not the clumsy fool you knew."

Wesley doubted that the man had even heard him, Giles was that focused on the next door. But then he collapsed onto the chair with a sigh. "I discovered it nine months ago - mere days after I found out Buffy was pregnant, as a matter of fact – in the last prophecy of the Codex…"

"'The Last Slayer shall be born to the Greatest

and a demon warrior.

She and her brother will vanquish the First

and seal the Gates of Hell forevermore.'

"I memorized the copy of the Codex you sent to the Council when I found out I was to be Buffy's Watcher," Wesley explained off Giles' stunned look, "and it is one of the shorter prophecies. You believe the last Slayer is Buffy's daughter?"

Giles forced his gaping mouth to close. "I do."

"Hmm." It was a good theory, Buffy had survived longer than any other Slayer, and stopped a plurality of apocalypses, but there was one problem he could see. "Xander isn't a demon - unless I've missed a memo, which is certainly possible - nor is he much of a warrior."

"Xander has stood beside the Slayer for six years now, against hell gods, master vampires and whatever else the Hellmouth has tossed up," Giles countered with a great deal of pride. "And as for the demon bit, I believe you made the same mistake in translation as I did."

Wesley scowled and ran the original Latin through his head again, but didn't see the problem. "It wouldn't be the first time, but I don't see how."

"Expectations. You're putting the words in the expected order, not the true. 'The Last Slayer shall be born to the Greatest, a demon and a warrior.'"

"Of course," Wesley murmured. "Buffy, Anya and Xander."

"Yes," Giles said. "You knew?"

"About the three of them?" Wesley snorted. "Do you have any idea how relieved I was when you stopped wearing your glasses? Willow's spell was worse than the bloody telly."

"I can imagine."

Wesley thought over Giles' theory as the two shared a chuckle. There weren't any flaws as far as he could see, though he wished he had a copy of the Codex so he could double-check his memory. Still, if it wasn't then the number of coincidences bordered on the absurd. "It's certainly possible, though I suppose you won't know for sure until the baby's brother arrives, and I doubt…"

"Half brother…" Giles corrected absently and looked as if he were about to slap himself in the forehead, "…that's what Anya had in her hand. Its no wonder the Vishanti offered them both weapons."

"The Vishanti?" Wesley repeated as the blood left his face. Angel, or more precisely Angelus, had had a run in with that clan of demons. The Scourge of Europe had barely escaped with his life, and he hadn't even been the target. "I'm amazed the three of them are still alive."

"Why wouldn't they be? They're protected by prophecy," Giles spat out the last word, "everything that's happened has confirmed that."

"Unless they're subconsciously trying to match what you told them would happen."

"They aren't."

"How can you be…?" Wesley froze and felt sick. There was only one reason why Giles would be so sure, "You haven't told them."

"Bloody right I haven't."

"Why not? If what you've said is true…"

"Because I hope – I pray that I'm wrong!" Giles shouted as he jumped to his feet with such force he almost knocked his chair over. "They've lost enough to this damned war, they shouldn't be asked to give up their children as well!"

"The prophecy doesn't say that they'll die," Wesley offered that little branch of hope as he stood before pressing on, "and that's a risk that we all accept to save this world."

"The price is too bloody high."

"The price has always been too high!" Wesley shouted back, remembering the knife across his throat, or the look of utter betrayal in Angel's eyes before the pillow blocked all view. "We're all asked to give too much, to suffer too much, but we do it anyway so that no one else will be forced to. Whatever is in the Codex comes to pass, and hiding the children from that will only get them and a great many other people killed."

Wesley knew Giles was trying to do the right thing, trying to give the young adults in his charge the lives they deserves, but he had only to think of Conner to know how dangerous that desire was. "I'm telling you now, as one Watcher to another, if you can not do your duty in this matter I will find someone who can."

The room went quiet. So quiet that even the air conditioner seemed to be holding its breath. "Someone like you?" Giles asked without heat or expression.

"Or someone from the Council."

"The Council will not come near them." Giles raised his hand to cut off any further protests. "I will train them as soon as they are old enough, give them ever chance I can, but the Council will not come near them. Not even if they take to lighting themselves on fire. Not after what they quite nearly did."

Wesley wanted to ask what they did, or came close to doing, but instead he heard the words, "As long as you don't let Faith's sacrifice be in vain," come out of his mouth.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. A few years ago he was willing to kill her himself, if the Council's retrieval team hadn't been so determined to kill Angel too he would have handed the rogue Slayer over without a second thought, but now… His own tour of the dark side had opened his eyes, made him realize that he'd been the one to push Faith over the edge. If he'd trusted her, trusted Giles, then none of what happened would have. And now that she had her second chance he was loathed to see it wasted.

But Giles only seemed confused. "What sacrifice?"

"To make Jessie the last Slayer. There can be only one and all that. Except when there are two."

To his endless relief Giles shook his head. "No, that was the only good thing that came from Willow's rampage, Faith doesn't have to die to fulfill the prophecy. Willow made sure of that when she drained Buffy of the Slayer essence…"

"Tried to drain," Wesley corrected. Willow had told him of her failed attempt, and the Discordians had done a half-dozen spells without ever finding a trace of the ancient energy in her.

"Oh, she drained Buffy," Giles corrected Wesley's correction. "Buffy's as normal as you or I now, allowing for some remnants of her former power. If Willow had chosen a different part of Buffy's body to drain the power through, though, I doubt any one us would still be alive."

"What?"

"She drained the power through Buffy's abdomen…"

Wesley's eyes lit up. "The baby…" Of course, when Willow drained the power the baby would have been in the direct path of said power… It was a good thing that the essence didn't come into its full until puberty, or else things would have been a great deal more unpleasant.

"Indeed." And with that, the two men finally ran out of words. They stood there, eye to eye, in silence.

And then Giles turned and walked through the pink doors. Wesley followed a few moments later and found Giles standing just outside one of the rooms and looking through the window set high in the door. When he walked up Giles took a half-step over so Wesley could see inside too.

Buffy was sound asleep in her bed, with Anya sitting on the bed to her right and the baby in her arms. Willow was perched on the edge of the bed next to Anya while Xander and Dawn were sitting on chairs across from the two girls. All four of them were watching the baby and speaking in tones too low to be heard through the door. He could see the three of them keeping their eyes on Willow, still unable to trust her completely, but if Willow noticed she didn't care.

Instead she had the biggest smile Wesley had ever seen on her face.

"Was it worth it?" Wesley asked, his voice hushed. "The risk?

"To have all my children together again?" Giles asked with a smile. "Oh, yes."

End

To be Concluded in 'Heaven Can Wait '

Author's note #1, Hagbard Celine, the Discordians and his big yellow Submarine are all from the Illuminatus Trilogy, one of the best and most confusing books that I've ever read. I thought the idea of a group dedicated to chaos would fit in well in a universe seemingly divided between the Watchers Council and Wolfram and Hart. I wish I could've played around with them some more, but the story had other ideas.


End file.
